


an orestia.

by saans



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Conversations, Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, Fondling, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nonbinary Character, Other, Possessive Behavior, Slow Burn, Stargazing, Suicidal Tendencies, Tentacles, Xenophilia, discovering feelings/emotions, eventual happy ending...?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26892439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saans/pseuds/saans
Summary: Infiltrate the Skeld. Earn their trust. Kill the crewmates onboard.Black thought his mission would be straightforward. But that was before he met a certain crewmate in a white suit.or: snapshots of an impostor attempting to navigate his emotions and unwittingly falls in love in the process.
Relationships: Black/White (Among Us), Crewmate/Impostor (Among Us), Red/Blue (Among Us) if you squint
Comments: 105
Kudos: 279





	1. a lack of understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome. it's 3:30am but gays in space had me by the nuts.
> 
> the fic title has no meaning. for now.

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [1 ᴅᴀʏ 19 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

“We’ve received an emergency alert from Headquarters.”

The Skeld’s entire crew was currently seated around the center cafeteria table, which they had gathered around for an emergency meeting. The noise of chatter and conversation quieted and each colourful head swiveled one by one towards the voice.

At the head of the table stood Red, the ships’ captain— as signified by the captain’s hat atop his helmet— and Blue, Red’s second in command. Though their faces were concealed by their visors, the room could still sense their serious demeanor.

“Our destination— Polus— as well as MIRA HQ,” Red spoke, “have been overrun by impostors,” he announced in a solemn tone.

Shocked whispers and anxious murmurs erupted between the crewmates. Feared mutterings of ‘aliens’ and ‘sabotage’ drifted through the cafeteria.

Black joined in in their chattering, of course. But not out of fear or concern of alien invaders.

It was for the sole purpose of blending in.

Plus, it would be ridiculous if he were afraid of himself.

Black’s gaze drifted up to the front of the table, up to where Red stood.

Their gaze met, and Red gave him a subtle nod.

From the news that Red had just given them, it sounded like their fellow impostors had completely overrun MIRA.

Before they had sneaked their way onto the Skeld, he and Red had invaded MIRA’s headquarters. And by the time MIRA was aware of a hostile presence sabotaging them from the inside, several dozen other Impostors had thoroughly infiltrated the organization.

Even as MIRA expanded their efforts to combat their sabotages and prevent them from entering facilities, infiltration onto the Skeld had been simple.

Because of the increased security, crewmates had to go through a medical scan before they either left or returned to Headquarters.

Medical scans were held in a decontamination tube that connected the docking bay to the Skeld. As crewmates boarded the ship, he and Red had waited in the vents. Watching patiently as each one slotted in an ID card into a receptacle along the wall, then stood still for their scan.

They watched as crewmates boarded the ship, and the next one came in to repeat the process. They watched patiently. Silently waiting for their moment.

The moment the last two crewmates had entered and finished their scan… they jumped.

And the crewmates were dead in an instant.

Once they had shapeshifted to look exactly like the slain crewmates and taken their ID cards from the receptacle, he and Red were on their way.

As far as everyone knew, Red had always been their loyal and reliable captain. And Black was a fellow crewmate, just like them.

And everyone was none the wiser.

Whispers and murmurs continued to carry between the crewmates. Black had to appreciate the irony. They were all so worried about impostors infiltrating their home base filled the room, and yet none had come to the suspicion that an impostor might have infiltrated the very ship they were in.

“HQ has been taken over?” a yellow suited crewmate gasped beside Black. “When did this happen?”

“We received the message from HQ just several minutes ago. We can only guess that this happened very recently,” Red answered in a troubled tone, with his head hung low.

On the surface level, Red looked and sounded genuine. But Black knew that he was simply feigning emotions to earn the trust of the crew.

An orange suited crewmate next to Yellow raised their hand. “What about the crewmates at HQ and Polus? What’s going to happen to them?”

It was Blue who spoke this time. Despite the troubling situation at hand, they managed to keep a cool and collected composure. “They’ve been ordered to evacuate their posts immediately,” they answered. “With any luck, they’ll make it out in one piece.”

Another hand shot up. This time it was from a crewmate in green, opposite of the table from Black. “So... what does that mean for us?” they asked. The green sprout on their head wiggled as they spoke.

Red shook his head. “Polus has been compromised. We’ve been ordered to avoid landing planet-side,” he stated. “This means we will no longer be meeting up with the expedition crew to continue our research and our mission has to come to a premature end. And since headquarters has been compromised as well…” he trailed off, letting the quiet room speak from him instead of himself.

Red was a master at working a crowd. It was better yet that he was disguised as their trusted captain. His pause created a dramatic tension, and collectively, the crew leaned in. They waited for his next word, his guidance, his leadership with bated breath.

“... We cannot return home, either,” he finally finished.

The words hung heavy in the air and the crew glanced at each other, nervous and uncertain. No one dared to speak, lest they upset the heavy atmosphere around them.

But Black dared. He raised his hand, looking directly at Red.

“So what do we do?” he asked.

Red turned to look at him. Though there were no eyes he could see past his visor, Black could tell he was staring right through him.

Black held his gaze steady despite the unsettling feeling that passed through him. He couldn’t help but think Red gave off an unnerving aura at times.

“Do what we would normally do. Keep the ship running and collect data on extraterrestrial specimens,” Red answered. His calm and steady voice resounding around the room. “Otherwise, we’re to remain here where it’s safe or until Headquarters gives us further instructions.”

Then with one nod from Red, the crew was dismissed. Red turned away to talk with Blue, and the rest of the crew split up into different groups. They chatted quietly amongst themselves, theorizing. Speculating.

While the crew may have gotten instructions from their captain, Black understood the _true_ meaning behind Red’s words.

Earn the trust of the crew and allow them to get comfortable. Keep them isolated, alone in space where no one can save them from the impostors right under their noses.

 _It should be simple enough_ , Black thought.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [1 ᴅᴀʏ 20 ʜᴏᴜʀs ]

“Oh, Black. Come in. I was just inspecting these samples.”

It had been a few hours after the emergency meeting when Black stepped into the Med-bay. The voice had come from an unassuming figure standing in the corner of the room.

White— if Black recalled correctly— had barely spared him a glance as he entered. Instead, their attention was glued to a rack of vials behind a glass window, which were all filled with a sort of blue liquid.

Black said nothing as he ventured further into the room and White remained equally silent as they continued to peer deep behind the window. The rim of their goggles perched atop their helmet seemed to barely graze the glass.

It was a lucky day for White. Black wasn’t here to kill them despite how easily he _could_.

If he wanted an easier time of killing the rest of the crew later, he had to earn their trust first. And that meant blending in.

Although Black was skilled in many things (including deception, sneaking, killing), conversing was never his strong suit. Red was always much better at that than he was.

Fortunately, White was currently paying him no mind. But it wasn’t as if Black could remain silent for much longer without risking suspicion.

He gazed around the room in search of a conversation topic until his eyes landed on a small black rectangular screen above the window that White was peering through. On it, was a timer that was currently ticking down.

Putting the clues together, Black spoke up.

“You don’t have to watch the samples, you know,” he said. His low voice cut through the otherwise quiet room. “You can leave then come back when they’re done.”

“I know,” was White’s curt reply. “I like to watch the reactions for myself, though.”

“Hm.”

“...”

And they were quiet once again.

It was as if White didn’t care that he was in the room at all. Or perhaps Black had simply chosen the wrong person to have a conversation with.

On any other occasion, Black would’ve been okay with being ignored. It usually made his job a lot easier.

But when he was _intentionally_ trying to get someone’s attention, he discovered that he didn’t enjoy it as much.

Black stared around the room once more as he searched for another conversation topic. What could he mention that could get their attention?

“So… that news about HQ,” he started, “what do you think about it?”

That seemed to do the trick. White pulled their face away from the glass and their gaze shifted down to the floor. “It’s… I don’t know,” they said after a moment of thought. “I guess it’s a lot to take in.”

At first he thought they were simply going to leave it at that. Black made a quick mental note that he was going to have to kill White first, just in case he had raised suspicion from their conversation.

But just as Black was about to turn and leave, White continued. “I mean, I was looking forward to joining the expedition crew on Polus. But now hearing that we can’t go there… and that Headquarters is compromised too…” they trailed off. “I guess it has me wondering where we go from here. What’s going to happen to us? Or to our mission?” they asked.

Black had a good idea of what would happen to the crewmates. Although he chose to keep that grim thought to himself.

White adjusted the goggles on their helmet. “... Well. If anything, I’m glad for the extra time in space, even under the circumstances. That’s part of why I was so glad we were going to Polus,” they said, turning their attention back to the vials. “Studying an entirely new ecosystem as well as discovering new lifeforms has always been so interesting to me. Maybe with time, we could’ve even learned something about the impostors.”

The final word in White’s sentence grabbed Black’s attention. “The impostors?” he asked.

“Yes,” they replied nonchalantly. “If you think about it, they’re… fascinating.”

Black paused to blink. “... ‘Fascinating’?” he echoed. The word felt strange and foreign on Black’s tongue. “You don’t think they’re bad?”

White finally pried themselves away from the vials and turned to give their full attention towards Black. “Well, I don’t know. ‘Bad’ is subjective. Do I think they’re bad for infiltrating our bases and killing us?” they said with a shrug. “Perhaps. But they’re unlike any other life form we’ve met before. They’re obviously intelligent. They must be doing this for a reason. Maybe they _want_ something,” they took a brief pause to shake their head. “If only we could learn about them. Then maybe we could come to understand each other.”

Black didn’t know whether to feel surprised or confused. No one had ever described them— the impostors— as ‘fascinating’ or ‘intelligent’ before.

Back when he had infiltrated MIRA HQ, he had heard whispers amongst the crew. Utters of parasitic aliens invading them. Fear of heartless, terrifying, shapeshifting beasts that only had a mind for killing.

It had never fazed him before. He never cared about what they said because in a way, they were right. Black had heard it so often that he didn’t realize it was possible for someone to see him, an impostor, as ‘fascinating’.

He said nothing in response to White. He didn’t even know what to think of it. Black’s gut felt like it had twisted into a knot.

White must have finally noticed his lack of response, because they had begun to fidget and rub their arm sheepishly. “Well, that’s just what I think. Sorry. You don’t have to… I just, tend to ramble about things that interest me,” they said, and returned back to the glass window.

Black frowned. He _could_ comply with White’s dismissal and let the subject go. It would earn him their approval, which would be useful in the long run. But for some unknown reason, he wanted to press on about the subject.

“So if you were face to face with an impostor about to kill you,” Black quizzed, “you would try to study them instead of running away?”

Unexpected to Black, they let out a soft laugh. “Well. Who knows? I _am_ known to get caught up in my studies...”

That wasn’t the reaction Black had been anticipating. That wasn’t the reaction he _wanted_. His frown only deepened. “That type of thinking might get you killed, you know,” he cautioned.

White only continued to chuckle, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “Maybe, maybe. Although it _would_ be befitting of me to go out due to occupational hazards.”

The twist in Black’s gut tightened. There was something about White’s attitude towards the whole situation that triggered some sort of reaction in Black. It made him feel some sort of impulse. An emotion. Irritation, maybe. Vexation, perhaps. Or maybe it was something else. He simply couldn’t put his head around it. But it made him want to hurt them. Shake them, maybe.

He ended up doing nothing of that caliber. But he still wanted to do _something_.

He didn’t mean for his next sentence to come out as aggressively as it did, but he could hear the growl in his voice reverberate around the room.

“What, do you have a death wish or something?”

White’s laughter petered off. As they fell silent, they gave him a quizzical tilt of their head.

It was at that moment that Black realized White may not have been serious and that they were simply making a joke.

“I…”

With their face obscured behind the visor, it was hard to make out what White might be thinking. They looked as if they were about to say something. But they seemed to decide against it and adjusted their goggles instead.

“Sorry, I was only kidding,” they said evenly and matter-of-fact-ly. “Although you do pose a good question. I guess I had never thought about what I’d do if I actually met an impostor up close. I’ve only thought about what it might be like to study one from afar...”

A soft ‘ding’ of a bell interrupted them and White’s head whipped back towards the vials. “Oh! They’re done!” they exclaimed. They undid the latch to the window and swung it open. 

Carefully, they reached in and lifted one of the vials out of its rack. Unlike the others which initially held a blue liquid inside, the one that White selected had turned red. They lifted it above their head and held it to the ceiling light, inspecting the vial with slight twists and turns of their wrist.

“Hmm… out of all the samples, it seems like this one had a stronger reaction to the added reagent, implying that this particular sample may have a significant amount of…”

It wasn’t until White stopped mid-sentence and looked at Black, that Black realized he was simply standing there. And very obviously staring at them.

“... Everything okay, Black?” White questioned with another tilt of their head.

Black straightened his posture. “Yes,” he replied a bit too forcefully.

White only continued to stare at him.

Black pointed towards the door. “I’m going to head out now.”

“... Alright,” was White’s only response. Their tone was even, with no hint of confusion or suspicion.

With a nod, Black turned out of the Med-bay.

As he rounded a corner, his mind went to work.

He wasn’t exactly sure of what had transpired.

He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was trying to provoke out of White, or what he was even trying to gain in doing so. The whole interaction was odd and it simply did not sit right with Black.

He was so used to the animosity and fear most crewmates held towards impostors. It was easy to manipulate them using that fear. It was easy to understand. It was the one thing he truly _understood_ about crewmates.

But it was as if White didn’t hold any of that fear. Impostors capable of killing in an instant had infiltrated their bases, and yet the only thing White was concerned about was “understanding” them. And that was something Black _didn’t_ understand.

He didn’t realize anyone was capable of finding them interesting or intriguing or wanting to learn more about them— almost on an empathetic level.

And then there was White’s utter disregard of self-preservation, when most crewmates were concerned for their safety and the safety of others...

The more he thought about it, the more the knot in his stomach seemed to grow and grow.

It felt like nothing added up. It was new territory Black didn’t know how to navigate and he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

But at least he had come to a conclusion: perhaps he _wouldn’t_ kill White first. Despite it all, they didn’t seem entirely suspicious of him. But he would make an effort to stay away from them, for now.

\-----

As it turned out, however, that was easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> white: if there were an impostor and a crewmate in space and the impostor killed the crewmate when they were researching would that be fucked up or what  
> black:  
> black: what
> 
> white uses they/them but they're also masc. i guess the closest thing would be a demiboy.
> 
> i plan to hustle chapters out as fast as i can. thank you for reading.


	2. bloodhound.

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [5 ᴅᴀʏs 22 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

After learning the fate of MIRA HQ and Polus at the first initial emergency meeting, the crew was on edge. Everyone was shocked that something this terrible could happen— and to them, no less. And now they were drifting in space not knowing when they could return home.

But even though there was radio silence from HQ— no new updates verifying that the situation had escalated, or that everyone was safe and that the impostor threat had been taken care of— everyone’s tensions had begun to ease with time.

Because despite the awful news, they could distance themselves from the truth. They were all far away from the danger. Someplace safe where the threat would never get to them. Knowing this, the crewmates had begun to relax. They had let their guard down.

The first body turned up a few days later.

Black had been in Security alongside Red when the opportunity arose. In front of them was a large screen that showed various different views and angles of the ship.

“They’re all near the front of the ship. By Navigation,” Red noted.

Black stared at the camera footage in the top right of the monitor, studying each colourful body that moved on the screen.

Red was right. Nearly the entire crew was currently moving between O2, Communications, and Weapons.

As he watched for a while longer, his attention had begun to drift to a singular figure on the screen. It was only after a couple minutes of absentmindedly staring did he realize that he was watching White.

Out of all the people on the ship, he was watching the one person he was trying to avoid.

They were only on screen for a few more seconds after Black’s realization, before they moved into O2 and out of the camera’s range.

Then, on a different corner of the monitor, a flash of purple caught his eye. This camera was positioned near the right side of the ship, in the hallway that led to the Electrical and Storage rooms.

“Everyone, except for…” Black trailed off.

The purple shape was only on screen for an instant. But by then, it was already too late for them. Black and Red had seen them.

“They’re going into Electrical. Go,” Red ushered. “And be quick. I’ll watch from here.”

Without another word, Black hurried towards the back of the room. In one quick motion he popped open the grate of a nearby vent and hopped inside effortlessly.

Over the past few days, he and Red had spent time learning the ship’s ventilation layout and finding out what vents connected to where. This way, they could travel quickly throughout the ship and get away unseen.

Some of the vents’ passageways went far— nearly spanning half of the ship. Luckily for Black, the vents that connected the Security and Electrical room were only several feet apart.

Black hopped out of the electrical room’s vent not a moment later.

He landed directly next to Purple, who looked up from their wire panel and stumbled backwards in surprise at his sudden appearance.

But that was all they managed to do before Black impaled them through their helmet.

Just as quickly as he had come, Black had slipped back into the vent, leaving Purple’s body behind.

Several minutes after, the body had been discovered and another emergency meeting was called.

As much as they didn’t want to admit it, everyone knew that the death of a crewmate could only mean one thing:

“It pains me to say it,” Red said to start off the meeting, “but I believe there may be an impostor among us.”

What tensions had dissipated over the last couple of days had resurfaced. The crewmates were scared. Black could feel it in the air like a thick fog that surrounded them.

The impostor threat wasn’t something they could just leave in the back of their minds to try and forget; the threat had followed them. And they were trapped alone in space with it.

“Yellow,” Brown turned to the aforementioned crewmate, “you found the body, right? Did you see anyone near Electrical?”

Yellow shook her head forlornly. “N-no, I didn’t— There was no one. Just Purple, laying on the ground, a-and—”

A light hiccough ended her sentence and she cradled her head in her palms. Brown gently rubbed his hand up and down in her back in comfort.

Yellow’s muffled sobs were the only thing that filled the room before anyone spoke up again.

“Where was everyone before the meeting was called?” Blue asked after a brief pause.

“Black and I were both in security watching the cameras,” Red reported. “We didn’t see anything that looked suspicious.”

Black simply nodded along in agreement. Technically, it was the truth— and the truth often made for the perfect alibi.

“Orange and I were with Blue in Navigation,” Pink offered. “And I saw White in O2 right next to us.”

“I was making my way down to the communications room when I passed Green fixing the shields,” Brown said. “Yellow was with me too, but she wanted to go on ahead to the electrical room to fix some wires.”

“I see…” Blue said. “Red, you and Black were watching cameras. Does that all check out?”

“It does,” Red replied. “And the body must have been discovered shortly after. We all had eyewitnesses and none of us were anywhere near Electrical at the time... “ he pondered out loud. “So how did this happen?”

“How could we have _let_ this happen?” Orange blurted. “One of us is dead and there’s an impostor on board.”

It was as if the distress in Orange’s voice opened the floodgate for everybody else’s fear to pour in. One by one, voices began to rise with more alarm than the ones before.

“But I thought they made sure… the security protocols…”

“... did we ever stand a chance…”

“... what do we do...”

Black gazed over the chaos of the room. Most of the crewmates, aside from the two leaders— Red and Blue— and himself, had turned to each other and were chatting nervously with one another.

As he continued to look around however, he noticed one other person aside from him who hadn’t joined in on the conversation. And that person was—

“Is it possible they could’ve slipped through the vents?”

Their voice managed to cut above the crowd. A few of the other voices quieted down and several crewmates turned their heads towards the source.

Further down the table was White, who had their hand raised politely in the air. Black realized that he hadn’t heard them speak once this meeting. Not until just now.

Red turned to look at them. “... What was that?” he asked slowly.

“Back when I worked at HQ, I overheard some of the higher ranking scientists talking about impostors,” White started. “They mentioned their ability to shape-shift and that it was how they were initially able to infiltrate headquarters. By shifting themselves small enough to fit inside the ventilation system,” they said with a shrug. “Maybe they did the same thing here.”

Black looked over at Red. His usual confident posture and demeanor had been thrown off. He seemed to be just as taken aback as Black was by the fact that they’d already been figured out— and so quickly, too.

“Are you suggesting that an impostor might have used the vents to commit a murder and get away unseen?” Red asked, a hint of disbelief sneaking into his voice.

“I don’t think we should rule it out as a possibility,” White answered evenly. “If impostors were able to do it at HQ, then they could have done it here too.”

“Perhaps,” Red replied coolly. “But even then, we don’t know where these vents lead _to_.”

“Then maybe we should find—”

“In any case, we need to be careful,” Red interrupted. The increased volume of his voice grabbed the attention of the other crewmates and effectively silenced White. “Everyone should be on the lookout for any clues or hints that might lead us to the impostor.”

While Red continued to give instructions to the group, Black snuck a glance over at White.

They kept their hand in the air the entire time Red spoke, looking like they were hoping to be called upon. But it was of no use. As the meeting started to come to a close, their hand had begun to sink lower and lower until it finally rested in their lap with a defeated ‘plop’.

The group dispersed and White watched as Red exited the cafeteria. However, they didn’t pursue him.

Black was relieved that they didn’t press the topic any further. The less clues that led towards his and Red’s true identity, the better. However, something egged him— a thought or an idea— in the back of his mind.

He still didn’t understand White. They didn’t seem afraid of impostors. They didn’t show fear, even when an impostor was confirmed to be on board and had killed one of them. Even when everyone else had begun to panic.

Maybe they wanted to know more in order to find a way to stop them. Or maybe it was just out of their own curiosity. Either way, they only seemed concerned about understanding impostors. They were less concerned about _why_ it happened, but rather _how_ it happened.

Most people would’ve let the fear creep up on them by now. But not White.

He still couldn’t understand it. But maybe, he would have to play them at their own game.

If White was determined to know so much about impostors, then Black would have to learn more about White. If he knew more about them, then he could potentially use them in some way in the future.

And perhaps Black _was_ curious about them as well. But it was to benefit him in the long run and nothing else, he reassured himself.

\-----

… That was how Black ended up following White to O2.

He followed them from a distance, of course, waiting until they turned a corner to follow them. He hadn’t forgotten his initial interaction with White back in the med-bay several days ago. He still wanted to keep his distance, as well as avoid raising any more suspicion than he already had.

Black stood in the hallway between O2 and Navigation, hidden behind a corner with his face behind an open wiring panel. If anyone else decided to walk by, they would simply think he was fixing the wires.

However, that also meant he couldn’t get a view of O2. But it was close enough. At the very least, he was within good earshot range.

As if they were on cue, voices started to come from the nearby room. From the sound of it, there appeared to be two others that were with White. Black strained his ears to listen in.

“How are you feeling, Yellow?” asked White’s voice.

“I-I’m fine. I think I’ll be fine,” she said, the sound of her voice wavering. “It was just a shock, that’s all…”

“I’m sorry, Yellow...” another voice chimed in sympathetically. Black recognized it as Brown, the one who consoled Yellow during the meeting. “I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”

“Let us know if you need anything though, all right?” White said.

“Um, y-yeah. Thanks, you two.”

Several minutes went by without another word passing between the three. Only the sound of quiet movement and tinkering could be heard. They must’ve been working on tasks, Black realized.

It was Brown who ended up breaking the silence.

“Do you guys really think there’s an impostor on board?” came his low mutter. It was quiet enough that Black almost didn’t hear it.

“There’s _got_ to be,” Yellow whispered. “Who else would murder someone like that?”

“I mean, that’s true. I guess it just doesn’t feel real yet,” Brown answered. “It all happened so fast. I can’t believe Purple is really…” he trailed off.

“... Y-Yeah,” Yellow murmured.

The room was quiet for another moment before Yellow spoke up again

“What do _you_ think, White?” she asked.

White ‘hmm’ed out loud, taking a moment to answer. Black inched himself ever so slightly closer to listen to whatever they had to say.

“I’m not really sure,” they said after some time. “I guess it’s... kind of strange? I was just starting to get to know people. But now when I look around at the ones I know, I realize... that one of them might not actually be who I think they are.”

“Yeah,” Brown said with a hint of a grimace. “They could be a murderous impostor hiding right around the corner and we wouldn’t even know it.”

“... Yeah.”

Black tensed. That was almost too specific. Did Brown know? Did _White_ know?

 _No_ , he quickly concluded, _there would be no way._ Black had barely talked to Brown and neither of them had seen him following White. He had made sure of that.

Black thought White was simply going to leave the conversation at that. But then...

“Speaking of impostors, that actually reminds me of a conversation I had with someone recently,” White said.

“Oh? What was it?” Yellow queried.

“... Erm...” 

A beat of silence passed and Black frowned inwardly. Their hesitation was uncharacteristic.

“Oh, nothing,” they finally dismissed. “It wasn’t all that important.”

The group went quiet after that. They must have all resumed whatever task they were working on. However, the last bit of White and Brown’s conversation had left him puzzled.

White must have been referring to their last conversation with Black. But why would they decide not to bring it up _now_ , when they were so interested about the topic before?

Was White avoiding something? Was there something stopping them? Were they trying to keep it a secret?

Black didn’t have a clue.

“Ugh, not this again…” came White’s frustrated sounding voice. “It was doing this before the meeting, too.”

“What’s wrong?” Brown questioned.

“I think something’s jamming the oxygen filter. The fans aren’t spinning properly.”

“Oh. Can you reach it?”

“Kinda. I just can’t… get… a good grip on it,” they strained.

“Do you need help?” Yellow asked.

“No. I got it, I think. Maybe if I just try...”

White’s sentence trailed off. There was a quiet rustle, then Yellow and Brown piped up simultaneously.

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t that kinda dangerous?”

Black turned his full attention towards them now. _Dangerous?_ What was White doing?

Quietly abandoning the wire panel, Black carefully crept down the hall, trying to peer around the corner without being seen.

From his vantage point, Black couldn’t see anything that would pose immediate danger. White was currently on their knees with their arm deep in the oxygen filtration vent. Yellow and Brown hovered above them, watching.

Only the sound of rustling and clanking coming from inside the vent filled the room. Then after several moments of fiddling, the vent’s fans seemed to whir back to life.

But then an unfamiliar noise escaped White. It sounded like a whine, followed by a gasp of air. They retracted their arm from the vent, clutching one of their hands as they re-emerged, and then—

“White, you’re bleeding!” Yellow cried out.

Something in Black’s gut made a twist. He didn’t stop to think about what he was doing, why, or what his objective was. His body simply moved. And he moved _fast_.

By the time Brown and Yellow noticed him, he was already upon them and forcing them out of the way. And in an instant after that, he held White’s wrist in his grasp, raising their hand up to his eye level and effectively lifting them off the ground.

“W-what… what?” White sputtered as they dangled in his grasp. The tips of their feet strained and struggled to touch the floor, but Black held them steady despite their squirming.

His eyes narrowed in on the open gash on White’s palm. Blood flowed from their ungloved hand, tainting their skin, dripping down their wrists and staining the sleeve of their perfectly white spacesuit. 

Somewhere, a voice admonished him. It might’ve been Yellow’s voice, saying something about ‘watching where he was going’ and him ‘being taller than the rest of them’. But her voice was too distant, too far away for him to care. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

“What happened? What did you do?” Black growled.

“I—” White paused. They clasped onto Black’s wrist with their free hand— their gloved, untainted hand— in an effort to reorient themselves.

“What did you do,” Black repeated. This time, it wasn’t phrased as a question.

“I was trying to fix a jam in the O2 filters,” they gasped. “I took my glove off so I could get a better reach, but the fans, I— they cut me when I turned them back on.”

Their blood had started to drip onto Black’s hand while they spoke. Black could feel its warm stickiness against his fingers, and deep down, a primal feeling surged through him.

He wanted to lap up the blood that had begun to pool at his fingers. He wanted to trace the liquid back up to its source and roam his tongue along the open wound. He wanted to reveal his true self to White and unhinge his jaw and rake his teeth along their skin just to see them bleed further, and teach them a lesson on what exactly would happen if you weren’t careful around impostors.

But before anything else, he wanted to ask: _why **weren’t** you careful? Why do you do things even when you know they’re dangerous? Why do you lack basic self-preservation instincts most people seem to have? Why?_

What would White do if Black did something to hurt them further? Would they try to fight back? Would they try to get away? Would they even care at all?

He wanted to poke and prod White in more ways than one. He wanted to incite a reaction out of them to get... anything. Something. _Something_ that Black could wrap his head around and understand. The fact that Black _still_ didn’t understand had started to make him angry.

“Black.”

It was White. Their voice cut through Black’s thoughts and pulled him back to the present. He forced his eyes to pry away from their wound and look up at their face.

The lights that ran along the ceiling of the room caught their visor in such a way that allowed Black a glimpse of their eyes. Wide, dark eyes with an unknown emotion behind them seemed to stare through him.

His grip on their wrist subconsciously tightened despite him not meaning to.

“I’m fine,” White breathed. “You can let go.”

It was at that moment that Black realized what he was doing.

He only wanted to watch from afar. He wanted to blend in and extract information about White without raising suspicion. He hadn’t even wanted to interact with White at all.

Instead, he had blown his cover and was making a scene in front of them and two other crewmates.

He was never this sloppy. It was unbecoming of him. So what changed? And why? What did he gain out of this interaction? What had he _hoped_ to gain?

He didn’t know.

Black let go of White’s wrist just as fast as he had grabbed it, and they landed on their feet with a soft grunt.

Yellow was quick to rush to White’s side. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” White said quietly with a small shake of their head. Given the circumstances, they were much calmer than Black would’ve expected.

Brown let out a sigh. “Geez…” he huffed with a scratch of his head.

At this point, Black didn’t know how he would try to save face. He had a feeling that it was already too late— the damage had been done. But he would have to try if he wanted to lower the group’s suspicion.

“I’m sorry,” he started, “I just heard a shout and that you were bleeding. I didn’t know what happened and I was… worried, so I rushed over and…”

Yellow and Brown simultaneously turned to look at Black with an indiscernible look.

Meanwhile, White averted their gaze from Black completely.

Black once again wished they would give him some sort of reaction. He wished they would look at him.

Between the three crewmates, neither of them said anything.

Then, with a clear of his throat, Brown straightened his posture and put a hand on White’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said to them, “let’s get you to the med-bay.”

“... Right,” White murmured.

Brown and Yellow both helped steady White and guided them out of the room.

Then, to his surprise, Black got what he wanted. White gave him a silent look, gently rubbing their wrist with the bloody sleeve as they walked past him.

And then the three of them left, leaving him to stand there, alone. Their voices echoed down the hall, and Black could pick up bits and pieces of Brown and Yellow’s conversation.

“What was _that_?” Brown quizzed.

“Why did he do that? It was kind of weird, don’t you think?” Yellow whispered.

“Yeah… weird.”

The further they got, the quieter their conversation became. Until eventually their voices disappeared and were replaced by the low hum of the O2 filter.

It didn’t evade Black's attention that he hadn't heard White join in on their conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> black: white's weird. i'm gonna avoid them.  
> also black: *lurks them, eavesdrops on their conversation, and fantasizes about tasting their blood whilst staring directly at their open wound*  
> black: idk. they're just... weird.
> 
> i put together an [album with all of the crew's physical appearances](https://imgur.com/a/6MqTp4G), in case anyone was interested in that. also, some crewmates may get additional altered portraits as the story goes on, which i will post when the time arrives...
> 
> thanks so much for reading. i appreciate all the support this fic has gotten so far. 🖤 i'm excited to show you all what's next in store.


	3. speaking off the record.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've changed the rating of this fic to **explicit** due to some of the content in this chapter, and also as preparation for future chapters. please be mindful of this as you jump into this chapter!
> 
> also, i hope you know the layout of the skeld well for this one. it's not mandatory, but it may certainly help with visualizing scenes.

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [7 ᴅᴀʏs 23 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Black made an effort to talk with the other crewmates over the next couple days.

It wasn’t something he particularly cared for. But after the incident with Brown, Yellow, and White in O2, he needed to build up trust before rumors spread.

It worked for the most part. Although he wasn’t what he would consider ‘friends’ with the crew, they seemed happy enough to talk to him. That was all he really needed.

But there was another reason why he needed to talk to others. It was to help take his mind off the incident in O2.

Black could still visualize the scene perfectly in his head. The way White gasped when they had been cut. The way their blood dripped onto his fingers. The way their eyes widened behind their visor.

It was a distraction. One he couldn’t shake. And he was growing sloppy because of it.

So he figured if he made himself focus on something different, he wouldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t think about _them_.

It made sense in theory. If only it worked in practice.

Even during the conversations that were supposed to distract him, Black always managed to somehow loop back around to one single question, about one single person.

“What do I know about White?” Pink repeated Black’s question, his voice reverberating from inside a wire panel. “Uh, they’re smart and nice enough, I guess. I don’t know. I didn’t know them until this mission,” he shrugged. “I think they were an ecologist or some shit.”

“‘Were’?” Black asked. “So they aren’t one now?”

“I mean, back at HQ, at least. They were probably brought on this mission to do the same thing on Polus. Maybe,” Pink said. Then with a pause, he turned to look at Black. “... Why are you asking me all this?” he questioned. A note of wariness had entered his voice.

“I was just curious,” Black answered calmly. “I’ve been going around trying to get to know people.”

“So instead of asking White personally, you ask me?” Pink quizzed.

Black knew he was taking a risk by openly asking around about White. He should have anticipated a question like that, yet a flicker of annoyance passed through him nonetheless. He had to turn the conversation around before Pink suspected something.

“I don’t see why not. We’re all supposed to be teammates, right?” Black said unflinching, maintaining an indifferent facade. “I wouldn’t mind knowing more about you, too.”

Pink only stared him down in silence. He crossed his arms and tilted his head as if he were thinking. Perhaps debating on whether or not he should give him an answer. Then after a moment, he seemed to make up his mind.

“There’s not much to say. I’ve been with MIRA for a while, and I’m usually stationed on off-planet outposts. Like Polus,” Pink stated. “A shame that it’s been overrun by impostors. I was looking forward to going there,” he said coolly.

“... Yeah. It’s a shame,” Black simply agreed.

Their conversation fell flat soon after. Eventually Pink turned back to the wire panel and no longer paid Black any attention— not even as Black left the room.

Perhaps asking Pink was a poor choice, he realized. He couldn’t go around asking just anyone.

He needed to ask someone who would be more open to talking. Perhaps even someone whose job it was to know the crew. Someone in a leadership position.

\-----

“You want to know what I think about White?” Blue echoed. Black had found them in Admin, leaning over a table with several scattered papers and a holographic display of the Skeld’s entire layout.

Black nodded, gesturing for them to proceed.

“I don’t know them personally, but I’ve heard about them from some of the top scientists. They’re very bright and they’ve always been deeply invested in their studies,” they said. Then with a hum, they put their thumb and forefinger to the bottom of their helmet, as if they were scratching their chin. “Hm… Maybe even _too_ invested…”

A tingle of anticipation crawled through Black. Was he finally about to get some real answers? “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, they’ve always been a bit reclusive. And they’ve always been buried in some sort of work or research, even back at HQ,” Blue explained. “Which isn’t necessarily _bad_ , but from what I’ve heard from their supervisors, it would get to the point where they would put discovery and experimentation over their own safety,” they said.

Black’s full attention was on Blue now. This was exactly what he wanted to know about. “Do you know why?” Black asked.

They shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that their reckless behaviour is what kept them from being promoted or recognized. ‘Great work ethic, but little regard for rules and safety protocols’, their supervisors would say,” Blue said, shaking their head. “Despite that, White knows how to do their job extremely well.”

Black had a triage of questions forming at the tip of his tongue. Things like: ‘have they always been like this?’ ‘How else have they disregarded their own safety? ‘Can you give me an example’? The anticipation in his chest started to form into excitement. He wanted to know more. He had to know more.

But Blue was already carrying on before he could ask a single question. “It was smart of Red to recruit them for an off-planet expedition. He always had an eye for talent, so I trust his judgement. It’s one of the things I respect most about him,” they said with warmth in their voice. Then they hummed happily as if a pleasant thought just came to them. “Oh, that reminds me of this one time back at HQ. Red and I were on this mission together...”

As Blue launched into an anecdote about them and Red, Black’s interest and excitement slowly, gradually, turned into annoyance. Eventually, he tuned them out completely.

He didn’t come here to talk about something he didn’t care about. He wanted to talk about _White_ , not Red. He wanted his questions answered. 

It then vaguely occurred to Black that Blue must have been thinking about the original Red— the Red that was murdered before boarding the Skeld and replaced with an impostor.

He hoped that their reverence for the original Red would prevent them from seeing through to the truth.

“... anyways, so now that you’ve asked me a question about someone, it’s only fair that I get to ask one back,” Blue said. Their sudden change of tone brought Black back to the present.

“Oh,” Black blinked. He wasn’t expecting them to ask him something. “Sure, what is it?”

Blue pushed themselves off the Admin table, turning to him to give him their full attention. “I noticed you’ve been talking to Red a lot lately,” they began. “I’ve been wondering…”

Black braced himself, already trying to formulate an excuse in preparation for the suspicion Blue was about to throw on him. What did they want to ask him? If their question was anything like the ones Pink asked him earlier, he had to be ready.

“Do you know if there’s something that’s been bothering him…?” they hesitated. “Has he said anything to you?”

The wheels that had been turning in Black’s head lurched to a stop. “Err, no... I don’t think so,” Black said, puzzled. “Why?”

“He’s just been acting… different, lately. It’s kind of odd,” they said with a lowered voice, as if they were letting Black in on a secret. “Usually he let’s me know when something’s wrong. I thought it might be the stress of there being an impostor on board and trying to keep the crew together at the same time. But… he’s been so distant. I don’t know,” they shrugged lamely. “I guess I was just worried.”

“... Huh,” was Black’s only response.

So Blue _did_ notice Red was different in some way. But from the way they had phrased it, Black didn’t think they knew the truth.

So much devotion and acclamation for one person that it blinded them from seeing that they weren’t who they used to be. The irony was too perfect. Black almost felt sorry for them. 

Then Blue straightened their posture, shrugging off any hint of vulnerability. “Well, no matter. I was just wondering if you knew anything,” they waved dismissively. “I need to run some errands, so I’d best be heading out now.”

Black frowned. They couldn’t leave yet. Not when he still had so many questions that needed answering. But Blue had already collected their paperwork and was heading towards the door.

“... Right. Okay,” Black said. “Thanks for your time.”

Then with a nod and a wave, Blue left the room.

Black leaned against the admin table, crossing his arms in disappointment. His conversation with Blue just wasn’t enough. The little information about White he _had_ gotten, the more questions he had. 

It was much too late to run after Blue and ask them for more. However, perhaps all wasn’t lost.

Black needed to ask someone else— someone who would have more insight. Maybe someone who had seen White’s recklessness personally, just as Black did.

\-----

Brown took off his radio headset and swiveled his chair away from the Communications monitor, turning towards Black. “White, huh? They’re pretty nice. Shame about what happened to their hand, though,” he lamented.

“They should have been more careful,” Black grunted.

“I mean yeah, they probably shouldn’t have stuck their hand in a vent without any sort of tools or protection,” he said while scratching the back of his helmet. “Yellow and I helped patch them up, but still, it was pretty dangerous of them.”

“But that’s the thing,” Black clipped. “They _knew_ it was dangerous and yet they did it anyway. Why are they so careless with themselves? Shouldn’t self-preservation be their top priority? Especially when there are impostors on board?” he questioned.

Brown crossed his arms. “Hmm... “

“You saw what they did. So tell me. Why are they so indifferent about their own welfare? Don’t they care?” Black had begun to shout. After being denied answers and getting nowhere for so long, he could feel his composure starting to fall. But at this point he hardly cared. “And above all, _why_ do I feel so worked up over it?!” he threw his arms to the side, exasperated. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

Brown only stared at him in silence, listening to his tangent without interrupting. He then continued to stare when Black was finished. 

Black hated it. He was sick of not getting answers. “Well?!” he huffed.

“I don’t know,” Brown replied simply. “But it sounds like you’re just worried about them.”

It was as if he had been slapped clean across the face. Black’s arms dropped to his side as his entire thought process came to a screeching halt.

“... What,” he blanked. “What?”

“I said it sounds like you’re worried about them. You don’t want them to get hurt,” Brown said with a shrug, as if he didn’t just flip Black’s world on his head. “I don’t have the answer to any of your questions, but White might. Why don’t you ask them?”

“It’s… not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Err…”

Black hesitated. For once, he didn’t have an excuse ready. He was still reeling from what Brown had said.

Enough silence must have passed between them, because Brown had stood up from his chair with a gentle sigh and a shake of his head. “Maybe I had you pegged wrong, Black,” he said.

Black snapped to look at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not going to lie. When we were all in O2, I thought your reaction was kinda… weird. Maybe even suspicious,” Brown admitted. “But now I see that you’re just concerned about a friend, like the rest of us are. You just show it in your own way.”

_No. You’re wrong_ , he wanted to say. _Impostors don’t stalk others and try to get information on them because they’re worried about them. They do it to manipulate them._ That’s why he was so interested in White— he needed to understand them in order to use them later on.

Yet Brown seemed convinced that the opposite was the answer. Except he didn’t know what Black really was. He was wrong. He had to be.

However, if it stopped Brown from thinking he was suspicious, then Black wasn’t going to challenge the topic any further.

So he let it go. Black said nothing else as he left Communications. Much to his relief, Brown didn’t comment on his silence or even try to pursue him.

That was enough talking to people for one day, Black decided. Right now, he needed time to think.

\-----

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [9 ᴅᴀʏs 10 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

The rest of the crew had winded down for the night— or whatever constituted as night out in space.

Black had been sitting alone in the cafeteria when Red approached him. After Blue’s comment on how often he and Red spoke to each other, they made a conscious effort to avoid as much contact with each other as possible.

Whatever Red was approaching him for, it must have been important.

He slowed down in front of Black, and even though they were alone, he looking in his direction as he spoke to him

“Let’s get two this time,” Red muttered discreetly. “Not now, but soon. Just be ready for my signal.”

‘Two’ as in ‘kill two crewmates,’ Black gathered. He simply gave him a subtle nod in return.

And with that, Red left the cafeteria and was gone once more.

\-----

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [09 ᴅᴀʏs 22 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Black found that his favourite place on the ship was Shields.

In the very corner of the room was a small alcove right by the shield primer. It was directly away from any sort of foot traffic. Anyone who came by only passed through to get to someplace else, and most never noticed he was there.

It was quiet and the perfect place for him to pause and think. Which was why he was there now.

For the last couple of days, Black’s mind couldn’t stop racing no matter how hard he tried.

Brown’s words bounced around in his head. _You don’t want them to get hurt_ , he had said. _You’re worried about them._

Something like that normally wasn’t something he’d have taken so seriously. That was, until he recalled his last interaction with Blue and how they had asked him about Red and his strange behaviour. It was because they had been concerned about him.

Technically, wasn’t what Black doing similar?

… _Was_ he worried about White?

Black stamped out the thought. _No_ , he quickly decided. There was a fundamental difference between his situation and Blue’s. Blue wanted to know about Red because they were concerned for him. They cared about him. Black wanted to know more about White because he needed to.

White differed from crewmates he had met in the past. They didn’t seem to have the same intrinsic will for survival most living things had. Maybe they lacked that awareness. Or maybe they just didn’t care. Black didn’t know. Either way, it meant they couldn’t be manipulated in a way that played off their fear of pain or death.

Black was just curious. He wanted to know what made them tick. He thought that if he could understand them, it would benefit him in the long run. That was all.

Another difference between him and Blue was that Blue wasn’t an impostor meant to deceive and murder. Black was. Someone like that— like him— wouldn’t be _worried_ for someone. It simply made no sense.

Yet his mind still looped back around to the possibility of the contrary. The thought almost felt like an itch or a parasite that had wormed its way into his brain. It felt _wrong_. Black just wanted to dig into his skull and drag it out of him himself.

Instead he slammed his head back against the wall he was leaning on. Why did it have to be so difficult?

Self-reflection wasn’t something he had much experience in. There was never any time to think about himself, because he was never meant to _be_ himself. He didn’t think he knew how. He was always changing his identity. Becoming and living as someone else. It had always been about what he _needed_ to be and what he _needed_ to do.

So when it came to _his_ own thoughts and _his_ own feelings— not just the ones he was trying to masquerade— he was lost.

Maybe all of this was difficult because he didn’t know what he wanted. Or maybe it wasn’t difficult at all, and he was making everything seem much bigger and needlessly complicated than it actually was.

Besides, what did it all matter? White was just another crewmate that would inevitably die to either him or Red, anyway. That was just a fact.

… Yet something still felt _wrong_ , no matter how many times Black tried to justify it in his head.

He was about to slam his head back into the wall again until something happened.

One of the lights next to him burned out. Then the light directly next to that light.

All around him, every light along the walls and ceiling fizzled and died one by one, until the entire ship went pitch black.

Unlike crewmates, darkness was nothing more than a minuscule inconvenience to him. One blink was all Black needed for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

The room was entirely dead. Nothing around him stirred, and the absence of the light’s once constant, subtle hum made the ship seem even quieter than it was.

This had been a sabotage, no doubt. But it hadn’t been his doing. 

It was then that Black remembered his last conversation with Red.

Their plan. Sabotaging the lights must have been the signal Red was talking about. Thanks to the low visibility, it would be the perfect time for Black to search for a kill.

… It also meant that _Red_ would be searching for a kill.

Black’s eyes widened. _Oh, no_.

His first thought went immediately to White and an unsettling feeling coiled like a spring in his gut. Where were they? When was the last time he saw them?

He didn’t know.

He had to find them.

Black quickly bounded from his corner and paced out of Shields. He made a left into the hallway that led towards Storage, taking a brief glance into the Communication room as he went.

No one was in the room. As he hurried along, Black found that there was nobody inside of Storage either.

Where was White? And where was Red? Where would they be at a time like this? The feeling in Black’s stomach had begun to tighten and twist, and his brisk walk had turned into a jog.

He passed Electrical. When he saw no one in there either, he ran further down the hall, rounding a corner, then another, until—

“Augh!”

A sudden shout had come from the body Black had viciously collided with. He stumbled back in surprise and looked down.

On the ground in front of him was Blue, rubbing their head in pain.

“Ow…” they mumbled.

“Blue?”

Blue turned towards the sound of his voice. “Black? Is that you?” they called. “Sorry, I didn’t see you. It’s hard to see anything with—”

“Wait. Quick,” Black interrupted, “I need to find White. Have you seen them?”

“White? Uh, they were in Upper Engine before the lights turned off,” Blue said as they pushed themselves back up to their feet. “Why? Also, have you seen Red? I need to make sure he’s oka—”

A choked, gurgling sound cut off their sentence.

Long, deep claw marks had raked clean through their suit, starting at their abdomen and ending at their throat.

Black shook the stray droplets of blood from his hands, which had already shapeshifted back to normal gloves. 

Blue staggered backwards. “You…” they gasped.

“Me.”

Their legs gave out from under them and they crumpled to the floor, hands clutching at their throat. Black watched as blood blossomed from the slash marks and began to pour onto the floor below.

He was hoping to kill them instantaneously so he could carry on with his search for White. Yet somehow they were still alive. Although Black suspected that it wouldn’t be for long.

“B-But… but Red...” they spluttered. “I need to…”

Black stared down at their heaving body. “You wouldn’t want to find Red, anyway,” Black said quietly. “He’s an impostor, too.”

“W-what? ” Blue rasped. “Is that why…?”

_... Why he’s been acting so differently? Why he hasn’t told you anything?_ Black didn’t need the rest of their sentence to understand what they meant. “Yes,” he answered them. “It is.”

Then he frowned. What was he doing? He was wasting precious time talking to a soon-to-be corpse instead of looking for White. It would be easier for him to deal another blow to finish them and move on. Plus, he had to get as far away as possible before he was seen near the body.

Yet, something made him stay.

“No… not Red… not _my_ Red. I…”

The more they tried to speak, the hoarser their voice became until all their words slurred into an incomprehensible gurgle. Life ebbed out of them with each passing second until finally, they collapsed dead on the floor.

Something twinged inside Black as he stared down at their body. Even in their last moments, their main worry wasn’t the impostor right in front of them, or the revelation that there were now two impostors.

No. They weren’t worried about themselves. They were concerned about someone else. And they had gone off alone in search of them because they were worried about them.

Which was exactly what Black was doing right now.

… _Shit_. Brown was right about him, wasn’t he?

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the pounding that beat against his skull. He didn’t have time to think about any of it. Right now he had to concentrate on two things: getting away from Blue’s body and finding White.

He stepped over the corpse and hurried past the lower engine, then down the hall that led towards the next engine room. Further and further he ran, barely stopping to look inside of Security and Reactor as he passed.

All he was focused on was finding White. He hoped they were still there. He hoped that he would find them before Red potentially...

Black eventually came to a halt inside of Upper Engine. He glanced around the room until—

There. In the corner of the room, almost hidden behind the rumbling engine, Black caught a glimpse of their clean and pristine spacesuit.

_And they’re still alive,_ he breathed. Black’s insides no longer felt as if they were being twisted, and the coil that had wound tightly in his stomach had begun to unfurl. He wasted no time clearing the room and making his way over to them.

“White.”

White whipped around towards the sound of his voice. “Huh? Who’s… Black, is that you?”

“It’s me,” Black said and reached out to hold onto their upper arm. As if it would somehow prove it was really him.

They stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact, but it didn’t take long for them to relax again. “How did you know I was here?” White asked. “What are you even doing here?”

“I was just nearby when the lights turned off. If we stay together, it’ll be safer for both of us,” Black said. He hoped that they wouldn’t notice how he pointedly ignored their first question.

“Oh… yes,” White briefly looked around the room despite it being too dark to see. “I _was_ with Blue for a moment, but I lost them when everything went dark. Have you seen them?”

_Yes._ “No.”

“Huh. I wonder where they went,” they said. “I suppose it’s not a bad idea to stick together, then. Perhaps there’s a way for us to fix the li—”

The sound of metal clanking interrupted them. The two of them simultaneously swiveled their heads towards the noise.

Black only managed to catch a sliver of movement from his peripheral vision. Behind them, the grate of a nearby vent had closed. But he didn’t see anyone leave it or jump inside. It was still just him and White in the room.

He didn’t have to sit and guess at what caused the vent to move, however. There was only one thing it could’ve been.

Red had seen them. How much he had seen, Black didn’t know. Although he had no doubts that Red would question him later.

“What was that?” White uttered to him. “Was that a vent opening?”

“I don’t—”

“Let me check.”

White moved fast. But Black was faster. He grabbed their arm and yanked them backwards before they ran too far ahead.

“What are you doing?!” Black hissed.

The way White struggled in his grasp made Black briefly recall the scene back in O2. The same exact scene that had been replaying in his head for days. White dangling and straining against his hold. The blood from their cut hand staining their suit and seeping onto Black’s fingers.

Black forced himself to suppress the memory. He couldn’t think about that now.

“The impostor _is_ using the vents!” White said in an urgent whisper. “Let go, I have to go and see—”

Black tightened his grip around their arm. “No. It’s too dangerous,” he warned.

White tried to tug their arm away again, but to no avail. “Red didn’t believe me at the last meeting, but now I know for sure that I’m right,” they argued. “If I can just prove it, then...”

“How? By sticking your head in a vent?” Black snarled. He could feel his blood pumping through his body with adrenaline. “You won’t prove anything by dying!”

That seemed to give White a bit of pause. “I know, i-it’s just…”

Little by little, their posture began to deflate until they finally went lax. Black slowly released his hold on them.

A wave of relief rushed over him when they didn’t try to run off again. Black sucked in a breath, coming down from this brief adrenaline high.

He had tried too hard to find White. He wasn’t about to let them go off on their own, especially when Red was right around the corner.

“Whoever it is isn’t going to try attacking both of us. If we move, we risk getting split up,” Black said, trying his best to keep his voice level. “Let’s just stay here until the lights turn back on.”

White looked at Black as if they were about to argue with him again. But eventually they seemed to give in. “... Okay.”

Together they sat in the cramped corner of the room between the engine and the wall, their backs leaning against it. Out of the corner of his eye, Black could see White staring off in the direction of the vent. As if they were anticipating something. Or maybe if they stared at it hard enough, the vent would open again and something would pop out of it.

But nothing of the sort happened. It was only them, sitting silently with only the roaring of the engine to keep them company.

As the minutes ticked by, Black’s mind started to race once more.

Now that he had successfully found White.... what was next? What did he plan to do now that he was here? How was he going to explain himself to Red? Also, what did White think of all this? Should he ask them, like Brown said?

And… what had changed about himself? What caused him to care so much about White in the first place?

It also didn’t help that everything about White felt more intense than it usually did. He was too aware of the warmth coming off their body. Too aware of every slight and minute movement they made. Even White’s breathing felt louder than the engine directly next to them.

Combined with the loud, incomprehensible thoughts in his head, the short amount of time they sat together felt unbearably long.

Just for once, Black wished he would stop thinking so hard. He didn’t realize being around White would be like this. He almost wished he never bothered to go and find them to begin with.

Almost.

Then the lights above them flickered once, then twice. Then everything went bright and the room became fully illuminated.

“Lights are back on,” White mumbled. “Someone must have fixed them.”

“Yeah.”

Black felt as if a tonne of tension had just escaped his body. If Red hadn’t made an attack on White when it was dark, then he certainly wouldn’t when the lights were on. It was finally safe for them to get up and leave.

But first, he figured it was as good of a time as any to try and talk to White. Although… Where should he start? What should he ask them? He felt like he had to at least say _something_.

Then an emergency siren blared above them. Someone had called a meeting.

Perhaps he would have to wait to ask them anything.

“... We should probably go,” White said. With a small ‘hup’, they got to their feet. Then they turned to Black, offering their gloved hand to him.

Black blinked and stared down at their extended gesture. That’s when he noticed the cuff of their sleeve.

He could pick out the faintest blood stain. It had been washed away and bleached, yet just the slightest discolouration still remained.

It was the same hand that had been cut. Surely they remembered how roughly Black had lifted them by the wrist in O2. And surely they remembered how hard he had yanked them just now, when they were running towards the vent.

Surely they remembered all the times Black selfishly took White’s hand. Yet there they were, offering it to him.

And there _he_ was, making such a subtle and minuscule and insignificant detail seem much bigger than it actually was, once again.

Black finally accepted White’s outstretched hand. With their help, he hoisted himself up, and their hands fell away once he was fully on his feet.

White gave him a nod. “Come on,” they said. Then with a turn, they led the way towards the cafeteria.

Black followed not too far behind them.

Even from a distance he could still see the off-white colour of their sleeve. Subconsciously, Black rubbed the center of his palm where their hands had met just moments again.

He had a feeling he would need time to work out the torrent of thoughts that had run through his head today. A _lot_ of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brown: well there's your problem. you're a tsundere.  
> black, voice cracking: i'm nOT
> 
> if you're a returning reader, then you may have noticed that i've added timestamps to the start of new scenes. i've done this to the first two chapters as well. i wanted to cement the "snapshot" feeling of the fic that i mentioned in the summary.
> 
> this chapter seriously ran away from me. i essentially doubled what i had in mind. i just kept adding more and more until somehow i was at 5k words?? i suppose i was just excited to share this fic with you all. thank you all so much for reading. <3


	4. constant conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of course when i try to not make a chapter lengthy, i end up doubling its word count anyway. so i hope you enjoy this long one!

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [9 ᴅᴀʏs 23 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Black and White were one of the firsts to arrive at the meeting. Already at the center of the cafeteria by the emergency button was Orange, accompanied by Pink.

He and White took a seat next to each other as they waited for the rest of the crew to trickle in. They came one by one— first Red, then Yellow, and at last, Green.

“T-They got one of us,” Orange announced shakily once they had all arrived. “Pink and I went to fix the lights in Electrical, then when we stepped out we… we found Blue’s body, j-just around the corner.”

“Actually, make that two,” came Yellow’s small and tired voice. “Brown is dead.”

Orange turned to her. “W-What?” they asked in disbelief.

Black perked at the news. _So that’s who Red killed,_ he thought. He had noticed that their group was marginally smaller than the last meeting, but he couldn’t pinpoint who was missing until now.

Brown was dead, and so was Blue. That’s when Black realized they were two of the three people he had approached with questions about White.

Somehow, everything ended up working in his favour. He no longer had to worry about the possibility of those two suspecting his motives. 

“We got split up when the lights turned off,” Yellow continued. “When they came back on, I tried looking for him then...” she shook her head as if she were dispelling a bad thought. “Then I found his body. In the hallway to Weapons.”

She seemed exhausted. Black didn’t need to see her face to be able to tell. No doubt that walking in on two dead bodies— first Purple’s, and now Brown’s— in the span of a week had taken a toll on her.

“But Electrical and Weapons are almost on the complete opposite ends of the ship,” Green mumbled. “How could the killer have moved so fast?”

“I don’t think they did,” Pink said grimly. “I think it’s safe to say that there’s not just one impostor on board, but two.”

The group took the news much better than Black had been expecting. The tension hung heavy in the air around them, but nobody had erupted into panic or frantic conversation like the first few meetings.

Everyone took turns saying who had been where and what they were doing before and when the lights went off. No one had anything to go on, however, as it had been too dark to see anything. 

The only one who offered any real leads was—

“I was in the upper engine room,” White announced to the group. “Blue left when the lights turned off, then Black joined me a little while after that.”

Pink hummed thoughtfully. “Black, where were you before then?”

“I was initializing the Reactor,” Black lied. “I went left towards the engine room once I was done and found White not too long after.”

“... Huh.”

Pink stared at him, silent. His expression was completely indiscernible behind his visor, yet Black could feel his eyes boring through him.

Black squinted. He didn’t like the way Pink looked at him. Did he know something he didn’t? Had he somehow seen something?

He didn’t get a chance to dwell on it, since White was already moving on to their next point. “While we waited for the lights to come back on, we heard a vent open in the corner of the room,” they said to the group. “This proves that the impostor— or impostors— are using the vents to get around.”

“Oh, no…” Orange mumbled. “Did you two see anything? Anything at all?”

Black and White spoke simultaneously. “No...”

“No, sorry.”

Pink leaned back in his chair. “Well, shit,” he muttered. 

Green leaned in towards White. “Could there really be two impostors?” they asked in a hushed voice. “Maybe there’s only one, and the killer used a vent as a shortcut between Weapons and Electrical?”

“I don’t know. It’s possible, but considering how far apart the bodies were and the short amount of time the lights were off, I think Pink is right. The more probable answer is that there’s two,” White stated.

Everyone began to wrap up their conversations and the meeting drew to close. Then for the first time in a while, Red spoke up.

He hadn’t been leading the meeting this time as he usually did. In fact, the only time Black had heard him speak was to answer any questions directed his way.

“You two,” Red pointed at him and White. “I’d like to speak to you two individually about what you saw in the engine room. Black, follow me,” he said to him. "White, I’ll come see you after. The rest of you are dismissed.”

The group dispersed. Red beckoned Black to come with him and turned to leave the cafeteria.

Black rose from his seat and followed him. He tried to ignore White’s stare as he passed them.

Red led him out of the room and down the hall, then made a left into the med-bay. Once they were inside, the door behind them automatically shut.

… Then the next thing Black knew, Red’s closed fist had slammed into his face.

Black staggered a step backwards. The punch had caught him by genuine surprise. Although it wasn’t hard enough to do real damage, any hit from an impostor was going to sting.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Red spat.

Black shook his head, shaking off the pain. “Excuse me?” he snarled.

“You mean you don’t know what you did?” Red snapped. He pointed a finger in Black’s face. “You killed Blue. I needed them alive.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that? All you told me was that we had to kill two. You didn’t tell me to keep somebody specific alive,” he growled.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize I had to spell out the obvious for you,” Red said scornfully. “They clearly trusted me. We could have used them as some form of leverage, but now that opportunity is gone.”

Black wanted to roll his eyes at him. “Then say something next time. Otherwise, there’s no point in blaming me when I did what you told me to.”

He made a move to walk past Red and towards the door, but Red had already grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him back around.

“I’m not done yet. Answer me this,” Red glowered. “I saw you when you were in the engine room with White. You were protecting them. Why?”

And there it was. Black had a feeling that the topic would come up sooner rather than later.

“I’m using them. Like you did with Blue,” he told him. “If I can get them to trust me, then they might be useful later on.”

It was the same thing Black had repeated to himself over the past few days. He thought it was the reason why he was so intrigued about White. Now, however, he wasn’t sure if he even believed it himself. Not after everything that had happened.

But as Black gave Red his answer, he only seemed to grow angrier. “Out of all the people you could have…” Red trailed off, incredulous. “You shouldn’t bother with them. In fact, you should have killed _them_ first. Not Blue.”

Black glared. “Why?”

“I already had Blue’s trust. Their blind devotion made them an easy pawn,” Red said. “But White is too smart. They know too much. They figured out that we were using vents day one and now they have proof to back up their claim.”

“But isn’t that exactly why we should get their trust? So they won’t suspect us?”

“No,” was Red’s immediate answer. “They’re more trouble than they’re worth. We’re better off killing them and using someone else. Understand?”

A growl formed in the back of Black’s throat. He knew he had no reason to be angry. Not only was Red right, but they were supposed to be working together to take down the crew. They had to agree with each other.

Except Red’s snark and superiority complex pissed him off. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to get under his skin.

“From what _I_ understand, you can’t handle things not going your way. What’s the matter?” Black goaded. “Upset that I still have an alibi and you don’t?”

Or are you just upset that Blue is dead? He wondered. It was uncharacteristic of Red to be as angry over the death of a crewmate as he was, even when they were one of his alibis. Black wondered if there was something Red wasn’t telling him.

Something that Black said seemed to provoke a reaction from Red. With an irritated snarl, he closed the distance between them until the surface of their faux-visors barely grazed. Then he jabbed a sharp finger into Black’s chest.

“Listen closely,” Red said in a low, dangerous tone. “Whatever you’re trying to do with White? Stop it. Letting them live poses a threat to us. I shouldn’t have to tell you why,” he growled. “Next time, kill them. Or I will.”

He accentuated his final word with another quick jab into Black’s chest. Black felt just the slightest hint of unease under Red’s cold stare.

_Kill them. Or I will._

The feeling of dread he got from hearing those words was familiar. He had felt it when he’d been trying to find White and didn’t know where they were. When he didn’t know if they’d still be alive when he found them.

Black needed White alive. There was still so much he wanted to know about them. If Red intervened, then he may never get the chance.

Slowly, the finger that had dug into his chest retreated as Red backed away from him. Whatever anger Red held had vanished. Before long, his composed and professional facade was back in place.

The door behind them reopened with a soft hiss. Then, shooting him one final glare, Red turned on his heel and left the med-bay.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [12 ᴅᴀʏs 05 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

After trying so hard to avoid White over the last week, Black realized he just couldn’t stay away from them anymore.

This was proven by his recent impulsive behaviour. Like back when he had rushed in when White cut their hand. Or just a few days ago, when the lights were sabotaged. Or like right now, where he was currently following them all over the Skeld.

He couldn’t explain it, nor did he know exactly what he was trying to do. All he knew was that he wanted to be near them. Red’s warnings be damned.

Black tried being subtle at first. At first he would intentionally walk past them or pretend to do a task nearby. 

This had the unintentional effect of surprising White with his sudden presence. Perhaps it was his own fault for being used to moving silently and sneakily. 

So Black decided he needed to be bolder instead. This time, he would make sure they would notice him. He _wanted_ them to notice him.

He inserted himself in places where he could see White, and White could see him. He followed them around, even engaging them in the occasional small talk while they did tasks.

More and more, he found that he was naturally gravitating to them— even when he wasn’t thinking about it.

Somehow, White never brought up Black’s strange behaviour even though Black was certain that they noticed. Surely they _had_ to have noticed. If anything, it seemed like they didn’t mind that Black was there at all.

It was only a matter of time, however. After a few days of following them, White finally spoke up.

“Err, you know, Black,” they turned to him. “I don’t mind the company, it's just… you don’t have to do this, you know,” they said, wringing their hands together.

Every little movement from White never went unnoticed by Black. He was briefly distracted by the way their hands squeezed and pressed together that he almost forgot to respond.

“What do you mean?” he queried.

They hesitated. Then they sighed. “I’m sorry that I made you worry about me. You know, during the lights incident,” White said sheepishly. “But you don’t have to watch over me all the time. Really,” they waved dismissively, “I’ll be fine.”

Black realized what White meant. They thought that the only reason Black had any interest in them was because he was anticipating them to do something reckless again. They thought that Black was just waiting so he could step in and stop them.

Maybe that _was_ part of why he was hovering over them in the first place. After Red’s warning of how he would kill White if Black didn’t, maybe he was subconsciously trying to put himself between the two as a barrier.

_You’re worried about them._

Brown’s words echoed in his head once more. Black shook his head as if that would somehow dispel them. He didn’t want to think about that now.

Although if Black was being honest, protecting White wasn’t his only reason for wanting to be close to them.

“I. No, It’s not just that,” he blurted.

“Hm?”

Black shifted his weight between each foot uncomfortably. “I mean. The reason I’ve been following you is…”

He paused to think. It wasn’t as if he could say, ‘I want to watch you and analyze you.’ Or, ‘I want to dig through your head and find what makes you tick.’ Or even, ‘I want to know you inside out. Let me in.’

How could he express what he wanted? If he were to be honest, what would they think?

“You’re… interesting. I want to understand you. I mean, I want to get to know you. I guess,” Black admitted through his discomfort. Technically it was the truth— even if it was a watered down version of the truth.

At first White said nothing. Black was almost certain he had said the wrong thing and was already thinking of how he should cover up his mistake.

But then they laughed. It was a soft, genuine sound that rang pleasantly in his ears.

“Huh. Well, I suppose there’s a first for everything,” they said as they came down from their laughter. “I can’t say anyone’s ever stalked me because they wanted to be my friend.”

Black froze. “Wait. I didn’t say I wanted to be— I wasn’t—”

“Relax,” White sounded slightly amused. “I don’t understand why you’d choose me of all people to get to know, but sure,” they said, adjusting the goggles atop their head. “I have to warn you, though. I’m not a very interesting person.”

Black shook his head. _On the contrary. If you weren’t interesting, then I wouldn’t be here,_ he wanted to say.

“We’ll see about that,” he said instead.

“Well then, I don’t see why you can’t start now,” White said. “What do you want to know?”

This was it. This was the best opportunity Black had ever gotten. White, offering to answer any question Black wanted to ask. After everything that had happened in the last week, it was all he wanted.

Except now that he finally had the opportunity... he was suddenly at a loss for what to say. It was as if all the questions he had were miraculously plucked from his head. Where should he start? What did he want to know first?

Perhaps the basics were a good place to start, he decided. “Err, what do you usually do? I hear you’re an ecologist?” he asked.

“Yes,” White replied. “Science as a whole interests me, but biology— or more specifically, ecology— is my specialty. I study different organisms and how they interact with their environment.”

“Is that why you were assigned to Polus?”

White nodded. “Obviously that’s no longer happening, but I would’ve studied the local flora and fauna and taken samples back for analysis.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“I think it is,” White said with a hint of a smile.

They spent the next little while engaged in small talk while Black followed White around as they did tasks. The conversation shifted from details about White’s job, to White’s own thoughts and opinions about what they did.

Something Black had noticed when he had initially stalked White, was that White rarely initiated conversation with other crewmates. It wasn’t as if they were a bad conversationalist— they simply didn’t talk to others unless they were prompted.

But whenever they were on the topic of something they were passionate about, they seemed happy to talk as much as they wanted. Which was perfectly fine with Black, because he preferred to listen and ask questions.

“Is there anything in particular you were looking forward to researching?” he asked.

“I would’ve liked to learn more about alien life,” White answered after a moment of pondering. “If you remember, I mentioned how I think it would be interesting to learn more about impostors. I’m not sure if we would’ve learned anything on Polus, but now we’ll never know for certain.”

Black did remember. It was impossible for him not to. White’s unusual interest with impostors was one of the things that ignited his intrigue with them.

Then something clicked in his head. Their mention of studying impostors reminded him of the one thing that he _really_ wanted to know. The one question that had been plaguing him for days.

“I have something else I want to ask,” Black said.

White gestured at him to proceed. “Of course, what is it?”

“Why don’t you care about your own life?”

“... I beg your pardon?”

It wasn’t obvious, but there was a subtle shift in White’s demeanour. In the tone of their voice. In their body language. They stiffened and seemed more alert to Black’s words.

“When we heard that vent open. You knew an impostor was in there, but you wanted to check it out anyway,” Black narrowed his eyes. “It was dangerous.”

“The more we know about impostors, the better. I wanted to prove that they were using the vents,” White explained.

 _By running head first into danger?_ Black thought with a shake of his head. “But that wasn’t the only time you did something dangerous. You didn’t stop to think if fixing that O2 filter was safe. Then you got cut,” he motioned down to White’s hand.

White crossed their arms. “Sometimes I forget myself when something grabs my curiosity. That’s all.”

“Is that why you said you would study an impostor trying to kill you instead of running away?”

“I meant that as a joke. Of course I didn’t actually mean it.”

Black didn’t believe that. He knew that those times White put themselves in danger weren’t isolated cases— they were part of a long, running streak of recklessness.

White remained cagey with their answers despite how hard Black tried to press them for an answer. In the end, he didn’t learn anything he hadn’t already known and their conversation shifted to something else.

Although they hadn’t seemed angry or upset while Black confronted them, their closed off, defensive behaviour was undeniable: there was something they weren’t mentioning.

As much as he wanted an answer and to understand _why_ … perhaps he had been too straight-forward. Too blunt. Maybe he wouldn’t find an answer by asking directly.

In that case, he would have to be patient. The answer was there— he just needed to watch carefully and put together the clues.

And if that meant he had to spend more time learning what he could about White, then perhaps waiting to find that answer wouldn’t be all so bad.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [15 ᴅᴀʏs 06 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

“You look busy.”

White jumped at the sound of Black’s voice. They swiveled their head to where he was standing in the door frame of Navigation.

“Oh, Black. I’m just waiting for this upload to finish,” White gestured to the tablet in their hands.

Black came up behind them and joined them up by the helm. He realized that White’s attention wasn’t directed towards the tablet, but towards the large windows at the front of the ship.

As he looked out the window, he saw nothing but the usual darkness of space. The only remotely interesting thing that he could see were the faint light of stars piercing the dark.

“Something you see out there?” Black asked.

They shook their head. “I’m just looking at the stars. Doing some thinking.”

“Thinking of what?”

They gave Black a brief glance then turned their attention back towards the window. “Don’t you think all of this—” they said as they gestured at the view, “—is fascinating?”

Black tilted his head towards them curiously. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Think about it,” White started. “Space is an endless sea of unknowns and mysteries. We’ve only been able to explore our own galaxy, but imagine how much left there is out in the universe. Imagine all the different stars and planets… all the life out there that we haven’t discovered. There are so many possibilities!” they awed.

White generally maintained a mellow demeanour, except for when they were talking about something that interested them. Black was used to it by now, however he still found it intriguing to see them so animated and enthusiastic. It was a stark contrast to their usual personality.

“And that’s just scratching the surface! Imagine: there might even be something out there that’s so alien and unlike anything we’ve ever seen before, that it’s beyond our very comprehension. There’s no way for us to know for sure unless we discover it,” White said, wonder-struck.

It was then that they seemed to realize just how much they had been rambling when Black’s only response was a quiet stare. With a soft ‘oh’, they scratched the back of their helmet, looking sheepish. “Well, that’s just what I think,” they shrugged. “Or maybe I’m just a romantic. Space has always been a point of interest for me.”

“No. I think I get what you mean.”

White looked up at him. “Oh?”

Black looked out the window, thoughtful for a moment. “I can understand why someone would be so drawn to exploring what’s out there. Space... it’s so much bigger than you think it is,” he said. “There’s a lot to see if you know where to look, but it’s vast and endless.“

_It can also be empty. And lonely._

The thought had slipped from the reaches of Black’s subconscious and into the forefront of his mind without him even realizing it. The moment he was cognizant of it however, he immediately snuffed it out.

Those were old thoughts— ones that he didn’t need to dwell on.

“‘Endless’, huh?” White hummed thoughtfully. “... You know, it’s funny you mention that,” they said after a brief pause. “Seeing how small and insignificant we are in comparison to the universe is… in a way, humbling.”

“Humbling?” he asked.

 _... Insignificant?_ he thought.

They nodded. “It’s wonderful that there’s so much left to explore out there, but we’re never going to discover it all in the little amount of time all of us have alive. It… makes me wonder if our contributions to learning about it means anything at all,” they said. Their voice had dropped into a low, quiet tone. “What if all of our efforts are nothing more than a feeble attempt to be a part of a bigger picture? To try and make ourselves seem more important than we actually are? Does it mean anything at all in the eyes of an uncaring universe?”

White was quiet after that. Their gaze broke away from the window to stare down at their feet. They looked troubled. Or apprehensive.

Black thought about what they said. He didn’t expect White to hold such an existential and nihilistic view, especially in regards to their own field of work. What led them to think that way, he wondered? And what should he say in response?

“... Well of course you’re going to think that way with that sort of perspective,” he ended up saying.

White looked at him, puzzled. “Huh?”

“The thing is: no one is ever going to explore all of space. It’s just not feasible,” Black shrugged. “So why bother worrying about things you’re never going to discover? You can value what you _have_ discovered instead,” he suggested. “Think about it. You’re one of the firsts to learn about all these new planets, their environment, and… alien lifeforms. It’s because of the work you do today that you're able to forward research for people in the future. Not many can say they’ve done that. But you can. Why not be proud of what you've already accomplished?”

“... Huh.”

Black watched for White’s reaction. They tapped their index finger to their chin, as if they were considering his words. And then—

“I’ve got to say, Black, I’m surprised,” White remarked. “I never would have expected that sort of thing from you.”

Black frowned. “What? Is that a bad thing?”

“No. I’ve just never really heard you voice your own opinion before,” they said. Black thought he could hear a glimmer of a smile in their voice as they spoke. “You should do it more often. You have some good things to say.”

Black averted his eyes from White. He tried to ignore how suddenly self-conscious he felt. “Just some, huh?” he said.

“ _Only_ good things. Well, from what I’ve heard so far,” White said, amused. “Unless you can prove me wrong.”

“I thought I just did.”

“Ah, I suppose you have,” White chuckled. Their laughter was soft and pleasant in Black’s ears. “But no. You’re right about everything you said. It sounds so obvious when you say it, but I’ve never thought about it like that before now,” they mused.

Black shrugged. “Sometimes it helps to have another perspective.”

“Maybe that’s what I needed. I’ve... been caught up in my own pessimistic thinking lately,” White admitted quietly. “But you’ve given me something to think about. Thank you,” they said warmly. “I appreciate it.”

Black would’ve pondered longer on what White meant by ‘pessimistic thinking’, if he weren’t so surprised at their gratitude. He didn’t think White had anything to thank him for. It wasn’t as if he had said anything profound; he simply said what he thought.

It also wasn’t every day somebody thanked him. Thanked _him_ , an impostor who lied and deceived and killed. Yet White seemed to genuinely believe that Black had done something to help them. Or maybe they were just pleased that Black had offered his own insight? Or a combination of both?

Someone who genuinely appreciated something that he had done… it was different. It felt so foreign to him that something in his gut stirred, almost uncomfortably.

“It’s… no problem,” Black muttered.

He couldn’t decipher what emotion passed through him. So instead of dwelling on it, he opted to watch the stars drift by outside instead.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [15 ᴅᴀʏs 10 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

When Black didn’t have much to do, he preferred to hang around White— which usually involved talking to them and getting to know them more. So long as they were interacting in some way, Black was satisfied.

And even though Black had already been around them for the majority of the day… he discovered that he felt restless when he wasn’t around them. Especially when he didn’t know where they were or what they were doing, and he wasn’t there to witness it.

He had gotten a taste of their attention and now he had the desire for more. He craved it. And he hated when he didn’t have it.

Eventually Black began to resent any time he and White had to part ways. What was the point in leaving them when he was just going to be back the next day? If he was able to have a little extra time with them, then shouldn’t he utilize it?

And so, he was on a mission to locate them. Most of the crew had started to prepare for sleep, so Black hoped to find them before they retired for the day.

All he wanted was to talk to them just one more time before the day ended. Then he would have his fill. For now.

He searched near the front of the ship— first by Shields, then Navigation, then by O2. As he entered Weapons, he could hear a faint conversation echoing from the cafeteria.

One of the voices he easily recognized as White. Black was pleased at how easy it was to find them.

Then he paused. The other voice, he realized after a moment of listening, was Pink.

Black frowned. As much as he wanted to see White, he wanted to steer clear of Pink as well. From the way he had looked at him during the last meeting, Black knew Pink clearly suspected him of something. And Black wasn’t particularly in the mood to deal with him.

Although he had to wonder: why _was_ White with Pink?

Perhaps he could find out.

He rushed over to a vent in the corner of Weapons. Quickly checking behind him to make sure no one was watching him, he swiftly yet quietly sunk into a vent, closing it behind him.

The voices grew louder until eventually they were close enough for Black to hear what was being said. It was Pink’s voice he picked out first.

“... just doesn’t make sense.”

“What do you mean?” White’s voice responded.

“Listen,” Pink said in a hushed tone. “I was watching the Admin table with Orange before the lights gave out.”

“And?”

Their voices were directly over him now. A shadow flickered over the grates, but Black couldn’t see either of the crewmates from his tiny view from the vent. He willed himself to be as still as possible.

“And the admin table never showed anyone _in_ Reactor. I don’t know where he really was, but all I know is that Black lied about being in there,” Pink said.

Black went stock still. So _that’s_ what the strange look Pink had given him meant.

It was true that Black never went into Reactor; he had run straight past it after killing Blue.

Pink had caught him in the lie. So why didn’t he bring it up in front of everybody during the meeting, when he had a chance?

White, much to Black’s relief, sounded less than convinced. Their only response was a noncommittal hum.

“Think about it,” Pink said. “How long did it take for Black to meet up with you when the lights went out?”

“Maybe... five minutes,” White replied.

“Five minutes,” he echoed. “If Black really was in Reactor, why did he take so long to get to Upper Engine? Those two rooms are right around the corner from each other.”

“He did say he was initializing the reactor. That _does_ take some time to finish.”

“But Black wasn’t _in_ Reactor,” Pink emphasized. “No one was. I saw it on the admin table.”

There was a pause between them. Black’s curiosity got the better of him. Making sure not to make any noise, he ever so carefully shifted his position in the vent so he could get a better view of what was happening.

He still wasn’t able to see Pink from his new angle, but he could at least see White. They were currently standing next to the vent, leaning against the wall.

They paused, seeming as if they were considering Pink’s words for a moment. Then they crossed their arms. “... Are you sure you saw correctly?” they asked.

Pink sputtered incredulously. From his view, Black could see his hands shoot out in exasperation. “I— what? Why are you having such a hard time accepting this!?” he exclaimed. “Black _lied_. C’mon, brainiac, this isn’t that hard to understand—”

White held up a hand in front of them. “No, I get what you’re trying to say,” they interjected. “But when Black found me, he insisted on staying together so we would be safe. He… he protected me,” they said. “Even if what you’re saying is true, it makes no sense for him to lie.”

“I know, that’s exactly what’s throwing me off. Something’s just not adding up here,” Pink had dipped down to that low, secretive tone once more. “I’m not saying he’s a… you know. But if you want my opinion, you shouldn’t trust him.”

White distrusting him or being suspicious of him in any way was the last thing Black wanted. But now it might have just become reality, all thanks to a certain pink crewmate running his damned mouth.

Black tried to watch White for any sort of reaction. Yet they seemed to barely react to the fact that Pink had just insinuated that Black might be an impostor. They seemed calm and collected.

But similar to when Black asked them about why they didn’t care about their own life, they seemed… closed off and rigid.

“I understand your concern, Pink,” White’s voice was level and controlled. “However, I don’t think it’s your place to tell me what to think.”

Pink snorted. “Oh, whatever. Don’t listen to me then,” he scoffed. “I just figured you should know since you’ve been around him a lot lately.”

Black could hear Pink’s footsteps move above him until they disappeared down the hall. Meanwhile, White remained leaning against the wall next to the vent. They stared off in the direction where Pink disappeared to, and then they turned their head the opposite direction to look out the ship’s windows.

Black wished he could know what they were thinking. What did they think of this new information? Did they believe Pink? Did they still trust Black? Unfortunately with no facial expression and next to no body language, it was impossible to tell. 

Then after some time, White pushed themselves off the wall and began to walk out of the room as well.

Black didn’t want them to go. He wanted to follow them. He still wanted to talk to them. He wanted to know what they thought.

But he couldn’t. Not after that. So he forced himself to remain still.

White’s footsteps faded until he could no longer hear them, and Black was left alone with his thoughts.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [17 ᴅᴀʏs 23 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

He decided that he should stay away from White. At least for a while.

It was bad enough that Pink suspected him. But now that White probably did as well, it would be better for him to keep a low profile.

Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. Transitioning from being with them every day for the past week to barely seeing them at all was more challenging than he expected. Black felt more restless than he ever had before. And there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

Maybe White _was_ more trouble than they were worth. Perhaps he should’ve taken Red’s advice and just killed them. His troubles couldn’t give him any problems if they were dead.

The thought soured Black’s mouth the moment he thought of it. No, he still needed White alive.

Fortunately, Black had found a temporary solution for keeping his mind off of things. He had taken up singing.

It wasn’t as if he knew many songs or was any good at singing to begin with. Most of the time he would only sing half or a quarter of a song and leave the rest out, because he didn’t know the rest.

However, it gave him something to do and it could be done virtually anywhere. That was all he really needed. If he were focused on lyrics and melodies then he wouldn’t have time to think about how much he wanted to talk to White.

Or White’s conversation with Pink. Or Red’s threats to kill White. Or worse, his own thoughts and feelings on all of it.

So he sang to distract himself. He often stuck to simple tunes that were easy for him to memorize, murmuring them under his breath.

He didn’t think anyone would hear him. Besides, Shields was always a quiet, deserted area of the ship— especially his little corner. As long as he was quiet, he would be—

“Black?”

Black jolted at the voice and was on his feet in under a second. He whipped around to look behind him.

Of course, the last person he expected to see was in front of him. White was several feet away, leaning over the railing that separated the two of them. They gave him a small wave.

“Hey,” they greeted. “I was wondering where you've been.”

Black blinked. “You were?”

“Yeah. It feels like I haven’t seen you lately,” White said. They walked around the railing to get to where he was in his alcove. “What are you doing all the way over here?”

They stopped in front of him and looked at him expectantly. Black felt tenser than he should be.

“Uh. I like to come here sometimes,” he admitted. “It’s quiet and no one really comes through, which is why I was surprised you found me.”

Normally he would have found some way to lie. It wasn’t as if he needed to lie in his current situation— it was just second nature to him.

So when he didn’t, he surprised even himself with his honesty.

That was one thing he had noticed lately: he was more honest around White even without meaning to be.

“Oh! Sorry for scaring you,” White apologized. Then with a pause, they asked, “Do you mind if I join you?”

Black looked around the area of his little alcove, trying to scrounge up an excuse. “Err, I mean I’m not doing a task...”

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

Black frowned. Why were they still interacting with him? Hadn’t they remembered what Pink told them? About how Black lied and that they should stay away from him? Wouldn’t it make sense for them to heed Pink’s advice?

The whole reason why he had been avoiding White was _because_ of Pink’s suspicion. If White suspected Black, then Black would be better off removing any attention to himself. However, White didn’t seem like they were suspicious of him— nor did they look nervous or scared.

Black couldn’t figure it out. Although if White _didn’t_ suspect him, then... perhaps there was no need for him to turn them away. The desire for their attention still itched at the back of his skull.

After sifting through his thoughts, a simple “sure” was all he ended up saying.

He shuffled himself into the very corner to make room for White. They slid beside him and the two both sunk down to take a seat on the floor.

“So uh, did you need me for something?” Black asked once they had both settled in.

“Not really. As I said, I haven’t seen much of you lately. I wanted to keep you company, I suppose,” White said. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh. Things are fine. I’ve just been busy lately.”

“I see.”

They fell into a silence after that, which Black was grateful for. It allowed him a chance to think.

This was the first time White had approached _him_ instead of the other way around. They had done it unprompted, and out of their own volition— even though it had been days since they last saw each other.

White had also said that they wanted to keep him company. Had they wanted to find Black for no other reason than to... talk to him? To be around him? Even if that meant sitting on the floor in the corner of the ship and doing nothing? Even after what Pink had told them?

Not that Black was complaining. Currently having White in his presence was a cure to his rampant feeling of restlessness. He just didn’t understand why—

“Say, were you singing earlier?”

White’s question interrupted Black’s thoughts and he froze. “Uh. No,” he said. Although he was sure it was too late— White had most likely heard him already when they entered the room.

At that moment he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a vent and never come out.

“I thought it was pretty good,” White praised. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

“I can’t. I wasn’t singing.”

“Oh. So it must have been a ghost, then.”

There was a hint of a smirk in White’s voice. They knew the truth; there was no point in denying it any longer.

He let out a long sigh. “I don’t… do it often,” Black admitted. “Sometimes I just do it without thinking.”

White hummed in acknowledgement. “Well, you can keep going if you want. Don’t let me stop you.”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon.”

“I’m not going to.”

“If it helps, I’ll just pretend that I can’t hear you.”

Black said nothing in response and the two of them went silent for a while.

He hated drawing attention to himself. He only sang as a means to distract himself— never to perform in front of others. He would never entertain such an absurd idea.

That is, he _wouldn’t_ entertain such an idea… if it weren’t for the fact that White had already heard him. It wasn’t as if it could get any worse than that.

In any case, what was Black so afraid of? He had done worse things than singing.

Although Black still didn’t like the idea of singing so publicly, perhaps he could find a compromise.

He restarted the song he had been singing when White interrupted him initially. It was a slow, melancholic tune. But instead of singing the words, he hummed the melody as quietly as he could.

White perked up at the sound. However, true to their word, they didn’t mention Black’s humming at all.

Though White was still in his peripheral, Black was more at ease than he’d thought he would be. Their subtle presence didn’t bother him, and they remained quiet enough that Black could pretend he was alone again.

As he hummed, his confidence gradually grew until he felt comfortable enough to raise his voice back up to his usual volume. After that, it was easy to force everything else into the background.

He still had his problems with Red, Pink, and White. But just for the time being... he could put those on hold.

The low, faint rumble of his own hums echoed off the walls. And for the first time in a while, Black felt content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pink: yo black is sus  
> white, looking the other way: do y'all hear sumn?..
> 
> finally, a feel good chapter and some proper interaction between these two! i didn't have a particular song in mind for when black sings. although if you want the general vibe i was going for: Slow Show - The National, and Achilles Come Down - Gang of Youths are both good choices.  
> also: if i made a twitter account to post things about this fic and all things among us, would y'all be interested in that..? if you are, i would love to know. thank you. 🖤


	5. turning point.

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [19 ᴅᴀʏs 00 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Black could feel Red’s eyes on him as of late.

He knew he was being watched. But he didn’t have to sit there and guess why. The last time Red confronted him, he had instructed him to kill White.

It had been over a week since that interaction and White was still very much alive.

If Black were to be honest, his interest in them had grown to become... somewhat of an obsession. He had only been around them more and more, talking to them while they did tasks or even in their spare time. He didn’t feel as if he _needed_ to know them; not for information, or blackmail, or to abuse their trust later. Rather, it was because he _wanted_ to know them for the sake of knowing them.

It wasn’t as if he had forgotten the order Red had given him. Every time White had their back turned to him, leaving themselves vulnerable, Red’s words echoed in the back of his mind— a constant reminder of what he _should_ do and what was expected of him.

But even then, he never made a move to kill them. He only ever lingered around them. And he had continued to linger. To hover. To be in their presence. To watch them, talk to them, and to know them.

Red’s patience must finally be wearing thin. Black didn’t want to think about the repercussions it would have when it finally ran out.

Sooner or later, he would have to make his choice. Kill White or try to justify his actions to Red.

That day, White invited Black to join them in Electrical while they fixed some wire connections. They were knelt down on the floor in front of Black, head-deep in an open panel.

They talked about something inconsequential while they pulled at different wires. Black thought they mentioned something about parasitic bedcrabs and adapting to new environments, although he wasn’t quite sure. The sound of White’s voice may have reached his ears but he was too unfocused to pay close attention.

_Kill them,_ Red’s voice echoed in his head. _Or I will._

Black quickly surveyed the scene. The two of them were perfectly alone and no one had seen them go in the room. He could easily sabotage the door behind them, kill them, vent out, and nobody would suspect a thing.

His job couldn’t be any easier. Everything was lined up in his favour— he just had to _do it_.

Black let in one slow, hesitant inhale. The next beat later, he exhaled.

His torso began to morph and split until a large mouth erupted along his abdomen. Serrated, gnashing teeth grew in and filled in the empty spaces. A thin, sharp tongue darted out, poised and ready to strike.

One pierce through their head or their heart would be enough. If he killed White, that would mean one more crewmate dead. Which meant they would be one step closer to wiping out the entirety of the ship. One step closer to their goal. He also wouldn’t have to feel the pressure of Red hovering over him, watching his every move. Scrutinizing him.

And he would never have to waste any more of his time on White, or think about them ever again.

_This isn’t anything you haven’t done before. Kill them. Just kill them. No one would know,_ he told himself. _Kill them and go._

Black stared at the back of White’s helmet, raising his tongue just a few inches from their head, taking silent aim. From there his eyes drifted down to their back and the way it rose and fell with their breathing.

… Then he focused on the way their hands moved, pulling at different wires deftly and with purpose. He focused on the pleasant lilt of their voice as they spoke. Their gentle chuckle as they laughed at one of their own comments.

His mind drifted further. He thought about everything that set White apart from regular crewmates. He thought about how enthusiastic they could get over things that interested them. Things like space, or bedcrabs, or soil samples from different planets. Or even impostors. Impostors like him, who were only one quick jab away from ending their life. He thought about the little things, too, like their appreciation for his humming. Or their appreciation of Black speaking up and voicing his own opinion.

Then he thought about the way White trusted him. The way they made an effort to find him when they weren’t together and how they always invited him to join them while they did tasks. After what Pink had said about him, Black was surprised they still wanted to be around him at all.

The tongue that hovered above their skull trembled with uncertainty. The things he had come to know about White would be gone in an instant if Black killed them. _Everything_ would be gone.

All it took was one second. One moment for his confidence to falter. Then in the next second, it fell away completely.

His tongue shuddered then sagged to the ground. Slowly, it retracted back into his maw and his teeth and mouth closed, stitching themselves shut as if a thread were sewing closed a seam. His torso had returned back to normal as if nothing ever happened and Black’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

He… couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t kill them.

“Ah, there we go. Finally,” White’s satisfied voice came from inside the wire panel. With a brush of their hands, they closed the panel and pushed themselves to their feet.

“... White.”

“Hm?” the mentioned crewmate turned around to look at him. They tilted their head in question.

“I have to go,” Black forced out, trying not to let himself sound as distraught as he felt. “I just remembered I have something important to do.”

“Oh. Well, I’m all finished up here,” White pointed behind them. “What is it? Maybe I could come with... Black?”

Black didn’t stay to hear their full sentence. He had already turned around and was beginning to take his leave.

But as he looked up at the door frame, his blood went cold.

Red was standing directly in the entrance of Electrical. And he was staring right at the two of them.

“Wait, where are you going? Is everything okay?” White called behind him, but their voice sounded so distant. So far away.

Red didn’t need to say anything for Black to feel the anger radiating off him. His glare said it all. It accused him. Pinned him down, boring holes and driving puncture wounds directly into him.

Though their gaze only connected for a moment, it felt more like centuries to Black. Somewhere, White’s voice echoed in the background, still calling for him. But Black couldn’t hear a single word. Not with Red’s stare smothering him. Not with how loud his own thoughts were on top of it all.

It was all so overbearing. Overwhelming.

He needed to get away.

Black ignored White’s calls and Red’s silent stare as he left Electrical. Barely even checking where he was going, he picked a direction and walked.

He knew Red had been expecting him to kill them. Perhaps that was why he had checked up on them in the first place— to make sure Black would go through with it.

But Black didn’t do it. He _couldn’t_ do it. He had fucked up, and now Red knew it too.

He had failed.

\-----

Black had walked towards Shields out of habit. He was only half way there when he remembered that White knew that’s where he liked to go and would probably find him there again.

That was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want to see them. Not right now.

So instead, Black made a u-turn and headed towards the very opposite end of the ship— towards Upper Engine.

It didn’t feel that long ago when he and White were there, waiting together until the lights turned back on. He could still remember how their wrist felt in his hand. He could remember their light breathing and slight body warmth directly next to him.

Black groaned, digging sharpened, shapeshifted claws into his head. He was getting wound up in frivolous details again.

What was wrong with him? He had never been conflicted over killing someone before. Why couldn’t he do it now, when it mattered? When he had the perfect opportunity to?

Every time Black imagined himself back in Electrical, primed and ready to kill them… he remembered the time he had killed Purple. He remembered their cold and lifeless body on the ground, bleeding out from the gaping hole from their helmet.

But now instead of Purple, the picture of White’s body came to mind instead. The mental image made him feel uneasy.

It wasn’t the killing that had bothered him, Black realized, but the potential of White dying. But he couldn’t understand why the life of a singular crewmate mattered so much to him.

After spending days wading through his own thoughts, he thought he had finally figured it out. Black was convinced that he only “cared” about White— as Brown had put it— because they were fascinating. Nothing more. They intrigued him in such a way that he had developed an obsession with discovering as much as he could about them. All their ins and outs. All their quirks and ticks. Everything and anything he could.

They were his own personal specimen— an oddity he could poke and prod to fuel his intrigue. Or at the very least, they were meant to be a resource. Something Black could use in the long run, either for their trust or their knowledge.

That’s all they were to him. Or rather, that’s all they were _supposed_ to be to him. Nothing else about them should matter. At the end of the day, he was an impostor and they were a crewmate, and he was meant to kill them. Period.

Yet he couldn’t even seem to do _that_ , because for some reason, he had grown to like the time they had together. He liked their curious behaviour. He liked noticing all the little details about them. Hell, he was even _fond_ of them. Black scoffed bitterly. _Some impostor he was_.

Maybe that was what made him keep White alive. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t let everything he had gained with them to be so easily thrown away. Especially if Red tried to intervene and kill—

He paused.

_If Red… killed…_

Black jolted up, instantly realizing his error.

He never should have left White alone with Red.

He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that the idea of Red making a move to kill White hadn’t even occurred to him. It was even _more_ likely that he would take the opportunity, now that Black was gone from their side. 

Black wanted to lash out at something in frustration. To tear something, to break something. Anything. _Himself_ , maybe. He couldn’t believe he had made such an amateur mistake. What an idiot he was!

But there was no time to dwell on that now. He had to find them. And fast.

He sprinted out of the engine room and down the hall, making a right turn into the med-bay. He spun around to quickly make sure no one had seen him. Then he ran towards the vent in the corner of the room and hopped inside.

A few seconds later, he popped out of the vent in Electrical.

Relief washed over him when he wasn’t immediately greeted by the sight of White’s dead body. But then dread quickly crept back in as he continued to look around the room.

The room was empty. Both White and Red were nowhere to be seen. Black snarled out loud. A frantic, desperate feeling had started to overshadow his frustration.

He ran out of Electrical and looked down the hall to his left, and then to the right. Where could they have gone? Should he double back towards Upper Engine just in case he missed them? How was he going to find them before…?

Then out of the corner of his eye he spotted someone rounding the corner, walking down the hall towards him. It was Green.

A small flicker of hope passed through him. If Red and White had been in the area not too long ago, then maybe Green had seen where they had gone.

Black beckoned them towards him. Catching sight of his frantic motions, they sauntered up to him in curiosity.

“Green. Have you seen White or Red recently?” Black spoke hurriedly. “I need to find them.”

“Whoa, you good man? You seem a little stressed out,” Green observed lazily. “Why don’t you slow down and relax for a sec?”

Black’s fists clenched. Normally he didn’t care about Green’s spacey, laid-back personality, but he didn’t have the time for it. “I need to find them,” he repeated, slower this time. “Have you seen them or not?”

“Hmm... White…” Green pondered for an agonizingly long moment. The sprout at the top of their helmet wiggled as they tilted their head from side to side. “Yeah… I think I saw ‘em with Red,” they finally said. “Heading towards Nav or something.”

Black let out an exasperated sigh. A second longer, and he swore he would have snapped their neck then and there. “Just now?”

“I _think_ so…”

He didn’t need to hear any more. Black barreled past them, running into the storage room.

“Oh, see ya later dude!” he heard Green call. 

He continued to run straight down the hallway that connected to Shields. Just as he was about to turn into the winding hallway that led towards Navigation and O2, he forced himself to slow down, making his footsteps feather-light.

Black crept slowly down the hall until he could hear a pair of voices just around the corner. One voice he recognized as Red.

The other he recognized as White by the familiar lilt of their voice. The tight feeling of dread in his chest slowly began to unfurl.

They were still alive.

Now he had to figure out how to get them away from Red.

“... something you wanted to talk to me about?” he heard White ask.

Black peered carefully around the corner. About several feet away from him, and the closest to him, was Red. Slightly more to Black’s right was White. Neither of them seemed to notice Black in their peripherals.

“Yes. If you don’t mind, I have a few questions for you,” Red said.

“What do you want to know?”

Black squinted at the other impostor. If Red wasn’t immediately trying to kill them, then what else was he trying to do?

“I understand this is your first time being assigned to an off-planet expedition?” he asked them.

White nodded. “It is. I’ve been on space stations before, but this would have been my first time on a planetary outpost.”

“I see. Even under our current circumstance, I hope you’ve managed to settle in decently. Life aboard a space vessel can be a challenge to some.”

“I haven’t found such difficulty,” they said. “The ship and its resources, as well as the crew, have been rather accommodating.

“Yes, the crew…” Red trailed off, acting as if he were thinking heavily about something. “That reminds me of another question I had. It’s about your relationship with a particular crewmate.”

“Oh. Who?”

“You and Black. I want to know what your relationship with him is like.”

That got Black’s instant attention. So that was Red’s game.

He and Red didn’t have much in common, but they shared one goal: to destroy the crew. And by extension, MIRA. Aside from that, they primarily stayed in their own separate lane and out of each other’s way. Up until now, it seemed.

Now Red was making it his business to gather as much information about the two of them, prodding White for details before eventually killing them.

Perhaps Red wanted to understand why Black had failed in killing them. Or why Black had poured most of his attention into them lately. Maybe he was looking for clues, or thought that White might tell him something that Black wouldn’t.

Either way, Red was overstepping the boundaries and getting involved in business that wasn’t his. Into _Black’s_ business. A silent growl formed in the back of his throat.

“I would say we’re relatively acquainted,” White said evenly.

“Did you know him before?”

“No. The first time we met was on this mission.”

“I see. And what do you make of him?”

“We’ve been speaking more as of late. I find his company to be rather agreeable.”

White’s answers were clipped, only providing the bare minimum. They weren’t going into depth about why they and Black had been talking, or about what. It wouldn’t have seemed odd to an outsider. But Black, who had spent enough time around White to know how much they could talk about a given topic, knew better.

It was subtle, but White had a wall up. Black had seen it a few times when he tried to pry them about certain topics, such as their reckless behaviour. Although he had to wonder _why_ they were acting so guarded. He didn’t think they had any reason to distrust Red.

Red nodded, as if their answers were all very interesting to him. “I have a different question for you now, if you would. What do you know about impostors?”

Black was surprised by Red’s straightforward question, though in retrospect, it wasn’t all that surprising. By how direct his question had been, he didn’t care about accidentally revealing his true identity. Red planned to dispose of White whether they found out or not.

Black could intervene now if he wanted. He could stop wasting his time while he waited around to see what would happen. Although, he did want to know the answer to Red’s question: what _did_ White know about impostors?

It was never something they talked about often; Black was worried that bringing it up would make him look suspicious. He only knew that White found them more interesting than dangerous, and that they held a neutral view towards them instead of an antagonistic one. How much did they _really_ know about them? About him?

“They’re a sort of previously undiscovered parasitic life form. Not much is known about their origin or physiology. All we know is that they have shapeshifting capabilities, which is how they’re able to excel as social parasites,” White said without even missing a beat. It almost sounded as if they were reading from a textbook. “However, they’ve also been shown to be incredibly resilient. They’re able to survive with no oxygen as well as extreme temperatures and force. This implies that they may have originated from a place with harsh environments.”

“Your knowledge is remarkable,” Red said with a nod.

White clasped their hands together, seeming pleased at their detailed answer. “Biology _is_ my specialty.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Red began to pace slowly back and forth, yet his eyes remained trained on White. “Although I have to say, it’s surprising you know all that. Most people are only aware of the basics. That impostors can change shape and nothing else.”

“Everything I mentioned about their resilience is new info from recent studies. I’m not surprised that it isn’t common knowledge. And not many care to learn about impostors to begin with.”

“Except you, right? Did Black tell you any of that?”

The question threw Black off guard. And by the look of it, White hadn’t expected it either. “Err. No,” they said, their confident demeanour falling. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason. I was just wondering if he had gone soft.”

“Huh?”

“You see, Black seems so fixated on you lately. He thinks we need your trust,” Red said with a shrug. Then his voice suddenly shifted to an accusatory tone. “But I disagree.”

That’s when a loud and abrupt siren sounded, followed by the flashing of bright red emergency lights. The two blared in tandem with one another, issuing a warning of a critical ship malfunction.

White jerked up in alarm. “What’s...?”

“Just a little reactor meltdown,” Red said, completely unfazed by the sudden flashing lights and alarms. “Nothing but a simple distraction to get everyone to the opposite end of the ship.”

“A... distraction?” Then with a tentative step backwards, White seemed to realize. “ _Oh_ ,” they breathed.

“Yes,” Red said, almost cheerily.

He reached for something in his utility belt. Black’s eyes widened when he saw what he was holding.

It was a pistol, which he had now aimed at White. With a metallic ‘click’, the safety of the gun was off. White stared down the barrel of the pistol, frozen.

Black knew what was coming next. But he wasn’t going to let it happen.

“This way, nobody will be around to see you die,” Red said as he took aim.

That’s when Black sprang into action. He darted out of the corner, latching onto Red’s wrist and twisting it into a death grip in a matter of moments.

White flinched at Black’s sudden appearance. Red, however, seemed nothing short of inconvenienced.

He tilted his head up at Black with a scoff. “Somehow, I’m not surprised to see you,” he said coolly.

Black’s growl was low and dangerous— a warning signal. He twisted Red’s wrist further, hoping it would force him to drop the gun. Yet his grip remained steadfast.

“I’ve been patient, you know. Too patient,” Red said while straining against Black’s hold. “I gave you more than enough time for you to do what you were told, but I guess killing a single person is just too much for you.” he jeered.

Black glared at him, but said nothing. His hold on Red’s wrist remained steady.

One beat of silence later and Red barked a scornful sounding laugh. “Don’t tell me,” he sneered. “You _have_ gone soft, haven’t you?”

A spark of anger blinded him in a brief rush of rage. He yanked Red’s arm aggressively, digging into his wrist. “Fuck off.”

Red’s shift from aloofness to fury was instantaneous. “What do you think you’ll get out of this?!” he snapped. “Do I need to remind you why _we’re_ doing this? Why _we’re_ working so hard to run this organization into the ground? It’s to stop things like _them_ ,” he jabbed a finger towards White— who was still staring at their interaction in stunned silence.

When Red emphasized the ‘we’ in his sentence, Black knew he meant impostors as a whole. He shook his head. He knew what the impostors wanted. Why they were targeting MIRA and its crewmates.

But Black didn’t need reminding. Right now, he couldn’t care less about that.

“They know too much. We can’t let something like that live. The only thing they’re useful for is being dead,” Red barked. “I’m giving you one last chance. Do things right.”

He was right and Black knew it. A crewmate who knew too much always meant trouble. It only made logical sense for White to die. Yet here he was, fighting to make sure that didn’t happen.

Black looked over at White. Although their body had gone tense and rigid, they had barely moved from their spot. The flashes of the emergency lights painted their suit in a deep red and glared off their visor as they looked between him and Red, uncertain.

His mind was working once again, trying to weigh his options. To obey Red or go against Red. To kill White or save them. The former of each option would certainly be the easiest, as well as the most logical.

But when he and White’s gaze connected, the picture of them laying dead in Electrical, bleeding out from their helmet, flashed in his mind. And Black knew: he had already made his decision.

Red wasn’t going to like it.

“... And if I decide not to?”

“I already told you. I’ll kill them myself and you walk away a failure.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Black glared.

Red’s tone turned dark. “You won’t be able to stop me.”

It all happened so fast. Red yanked his arm downwards with more force than Black expected, causing him to stumble past him and lose his grip. Then he was up and aiming the gun back at White, his finger hovering over the trigger…

There was no time to pause and think about what he was doing. No time to think about the repercussions. He had to stop Red. It didn’t matter how— he just had to do it.

Instinctively, Black reached out. Red grunted in surprise and the gun clattered to the floor harmlessly.

Somewhere to Black’s right, White sucked in a surprised breath.

He blinked once, then twice. Black’s gaze trailed up his own arm— except it wasn’t a normal arm anymore. It had tapered into a thin tendril, then extended and wrapped itself around Red’s entire forearm, forcing it to twist in an unnatural way.

Without intending to or even thinking about it, he had shapeshifted. In front of White, of all people.

He cursed internally. If they had any doubts about his true identity, they had just been blown out the window. There was no way to deny the truth when they could see it plain as day.

White knew Black was an impostor.

Red stared down at the tendril as if it had offended him in some way. “So that’s how you want to play?” he said with an angry snarl. “So be it.”

That’s when Red lunged at him. The speed and force was nearly enough to topple him over, but Black dug his heels into the ground, keeping himself upright and stopping Red from running him over.

As the two strained against each other, Black noticed how the other impostor suddenly looked much bigger and bulkier than before. It wasn’t his imagination— Red had shapeshifted himself large enough to now rival Black in size.

With his new size and strength, Red began to slowly push Black backwards until his back was flush against a wall. Then a knee connected with his gut, causing him to double over. Just as Red was about to deal another blow in his moment of vulnerability, Black managed to recover and duck to the side. Then he sprung, barreling himself into the other impostor’s side. The two slammed into the opposite wall, causing it to shudder with a loud metallic ‘bang’.

Red could shapeshift all he wanted to make himself look bigger, but Black was still naturally stronger.

He sank his claws deep into Red’s upper arms. Then he pulled him away from the wall, only to slam him hard against it again. Then he did it again. And again. Each time he did, his claws sank deeper and was followed by an angry thought.

_That’s for punching me that one time. That’s for getting in my way. That’s for trying to kill what’s mine._

Red’s skull rebounded off the wall with each slam. The sound of his pained grunts brought Black a sort of twisted satisfaction.

It only came to an end when Red finally managed to retaliate. He wound up, then smashed his head into Black’s. The front of their faux-visors crashed together and Black recoiled.

When he looked back up, the front of Red’s helmet was gone. Instead, it was replaced by a gaping, sucker-like mouth with several circular rows of serrated teeth.

The mouth came down on his shoulder and bit down. Hard.

Black cried out, pain flooding his senses. He instinctively reached up to try and pull Red off of him, but pulling only made him clamp down harder. Then, Red started to pull, as if threatening to rip his shoulder clean off. Black needed him to let go.

From his torso, a mouth of Black’s own erupted and crunched down on Red’s side. The taste of blood exploded on his tongue, dripping from his teeth and onto the ground below. Red ended up releasing his hold on him and let out a pained howl.

Black took the opportunity to push Red away from him, choosing to disengage from the fight in favour of nursing his injured shoulder. Red staggered backwards, but looked much worse for wear in comparison. Blood oozed all down his arms and his entire right side. Yet somehow he was still standing.

Red let out a tired, but exasperated chuckle. “I can’t believe you’re fighting so hard to prove just how much of a traitor you really are. Getting cozy with the enemy was bad enough. But this?” he shook his head incredulously.

Black said nothing. He wasn’t going to waste what little energy he had left humouring Red.

“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything?” he said. His silence only ended up aggravating Red more. “You’d rather protect some worthless life by fighting _me_? How idiotic do you have to be?!” he roared.

Red lunged at him again seemingly faster and stronger than before, even despite his injuries. They twisted and turned for a while in an attempt to wrassle control over the other. Black tried to wrap tendrils around Red’s arms to try and keep him from moving, but he wasn’t fast enough. Red’s claws raked his entire torso in a fast upward motion and a shower of his own blood sprayed directly into his vision.

Then the weight of Red’s body slammed into him and Black was falling backwards onto the ground. The opposing impostor loomed over him, keeping him pinned down by a strong grip of his neck.

He was too disoriented by the pain to stop what happened next. A punch connected with Black’s face. Then again, over and over. A rhythmic ‘thud’ filled the room as Red pummelled his fists into his head, each blow delivering more force than the one before.

“Every impostor agrees that we’re not doing this because we have to, but because we should,” Red said in-between punches. “Their outposts, their precious HQ, the entirety of MIRA— every single one of these damned crewmates is going to pay!”

He could hear Red’s words, but the meaning of them weren’t sticking. The world around him had begun to spin and he was getting dazed to focus. Distantly, he could feel blood start to pool in the back of his throat uncomfortably.

Then for a brief moment, the punches stopped. Black gave a quiet whine as his head lolled to the side.

Something caught his eye. From a distance away, the sight of a familiar bright and clean spacesuit caught his attention.

Black’s eyes widened. It was White, who was still watching on in frozen awe.

They were still here. Why were they still here? Why hadn’t they run away by now? Why hadn’t they tried to get somewhere safe?

“White, what are you doing?” Black rasped. “Get out!”

“I— No. I can’t just...” they faltered.

Red whipped towards the sound of White’s voice, taking note of their presence again. Then, the mouth that had replaced Red’s visor split into a wicked grin. His arm began to morph, narrowing his hand and fingers into a singular, sharpened point. “Ah, White, how kind of you to stick around,” he said with a wild grin. “I do believe we have some unfinished business!”

Then Red’s arm extended and flew towards White.

“No!” Black cried out.

It all happened so fast, yet everything felt like it was in slow motion. Black reflexively reached up to grab Red’s arm. To do something to try and stop it from reaching its target.

Then he heard the shattering of glass and the thud of something slamming into a wall.

Black’s blood went ice cold. He dared himself to look to the side.

He had succeeded in stopping Red from getting any closer. His spear-like arm hovered in the air, trembling as it strained to break free of Black’s grip.

But Black had been just a tad too slow. Red had managed to pierce through their helmet anyway.

White sat slumped on the floor. The front of their visor had been smashed to pieces.

And they weren't moving.

That’s when something inside Black snapped. Something primal.

In that moment, the only thing he could see was red. Red emergency lights. A red space suit. Hot, red, seething anger.

Black let out a roar as he let the rage course through him.

Multiple things happened in quick succession. He yanked Red’s arm down as hard as he could, removing it from its place in White’s helmet and slamming it to the ground. Then he took a hold of Red’s shoulders and pushed past his pain, surging forward to flip their positions so that _he_ was the one now pinned to the floor. Multiple dark tendrils burst from Black’s back, wrapping around each of Red’s limbs and locking them in place. 

Then he plunged his claws deep into Red’s torso and began to pry it open.

The only thing louder than the emergency sirens was Red’s agonized screech. He could feel Red’s body fighting him, trying to shapeshift his chest close in an attempt to counteract Black’s claws trying to tear him in two. But Black tore hard enough that Red was struggling to keep up. Thick, black blood gushed out of the open wound and coated Black’s hands. The fluid was slippery and warm between his fingers.

How _dare_ he. How dare he hurt White. How dare he lay even a finger on them. How dare he touch something— _break_ something— that was his. 

That’s when Black realized he didn’t just _need_ White alive; he _wanted_ it. They were _his_ and Red wasn't going to take that away from him. He didn’t have the right.

If he could pry open Red’s chest just a little further, he could plunge his hand inside and tear out his guts. He could kill him. He had to kill him. He couldn’t let him get away with what he had done. He was almost there, just a little closer and...

Pain suddenly bloomed in Black’s stomach. From the gaping hole in Red’s chest sprung a thin, sharp tendril that impaled clean through his torso. Black gasped in pain, and just for a moment, his hold loosened.

But that moment of distraction was all Red needed to wiggle out of his hold and kick him off of him.

As Black reoriented himself, he caught a glimpse of Red bolting past him. There was a loud ‘crash’ of a body hitting a wall, which was then followed by a frantic skidding noise.

_He’s running away,_ he realized. Despite his injuries, Black turned around and half stumbled, half ran in the direction Red had gone. Inky blood smeared the floor and the walls, painting a trail for him to follow.

He rounded the corner just in time to see a flash of red slink into a nearby vent, closing the grate behind it. Loud rustling and clanking echoed down the vent shaft until the sound faded entirely.

Black kept his eyes trained on the vent even long after Red had disappeared. As he leaned against the wall clutching at his injuries, the adrenaline rush he had got from the battle began to dissipate. He suddenly felt tired. More tired than he ever had before, like his energy had been drained right from under him.

Black wanted to sit down. To close his eyes for a bit. He was tired and injured and bleeding, but he couldn’t rest. Not yet.

He made a slow turn around and limped over to where White was on the opposite side of the hallway.

They hadn’t moved since the last time Black had checked up on them. They were still sitting against the wall, their head slumped forward.

Black knelt down in front of them. “White.”

There was no response.

It didn’t take long for the panic to set in again.

How badly were they hurt? Were they even conscious? Was he too late? Had Red actually… actually…?

“White,” he tried again, more frantically this time. “Say something. Come on.”

“... Mm… Black?” 

White’s quiet voice was barely audible. Bits of shattered glass from their visor fell from their helmet as they tilted their head up at him.

Black let out a shaky, relieved sigh. They were responsive. _Good_. He didn’t know what he would do if they had died, after everything he had done to try and save them.

“Where did—” they said while trying to prop themselves up, but their arms gave out on them as soon as they tried. “Ugh… where did Red go?”

“Gone,” he answered. “He ran away.”

“Mm.”

“... Are you okay?”

White made another attempt to get on their feet, but ended up with the same result. They appeared too shaky and disoriented to do so.

Black frowned. That didn’t _look_ like they were okay. Perhaps they were in shock or their injury was actually worse than he thought. Or both.

He needed to get them to the med-bay. But that was on the opposite side of the ship. Not only was it far, he also didn’t see an easy way to get them there. Not unless he carried them himself.

… _Fuck it._

Using both of his arms plus an extra tendril from his stomach as extra support, he scooped them up. Once he had a secure hold on them, he made a slow, long walk towards the med-bay. His tired muscles ached in protest, but not enough for him to care.

He wouldn’t have cared if someone saw the two of them, all battered and bloodied. Black was well past the point of caring. 

At some point the emergency lights had stopped flashing and the siren had stopped blaring, leaving Black’s quiet footsteps to echo down the hall and through the cafeteria. The crew must have managed to stop the reactor from melting down, he realized. However, that also meant the crew would be coming back in his direction at any moment.

Yet through a stroke of miraculous luck, they got to the med-bay unseen. Black made sure to sabotage the door closed behind them as he stumbled in and propped White on top of one of the beds.

As he stood there trying to decide what to do next, his eyes drifted to the corner of the room. To where a vent sat conspicuously.

Black felt a slight prickle of paranoia. He wasn’t sure if Red was going to make a second appearance so soon, especially with the injuries he sustained. But after everything that had happened… he couldn’t risk the chance.

Grabbing one of the spare beds, he dragged it towards the vent until it was completely covered. _There._ With the vent blocked and the door closed behind them, they would be safe. For the time being.

Black returned his attention back towards White, who still hadn’t moved an inch since he sat them down. Aside from the few black splatters where Black had accidentally bled on them, they looked relatively unscathed. Except for...

His eyes were drawn to the dark, gaping hole in the middle of their visor. Where glass wasn’t entirely gone or shattered, fractures sprawled outward from the hole like a web.

Black bent down to try and peer through their visor, but he couldn’t get a good look. Not with how their head was tilted. If he wanted to properly assess the damage, their helmet needed to come off.

With steady hands, he placed both hands on the side of White’s head and carefully began to lift up. White’s only acknowledgment was a quiet grunt.

Their helmet came up and away, and white, wavy locks fell around their face. And for the first time, Black saw their face.

Or, what he _could_ see of it, as half of it was drenched in blood. Starting at the bridge of their nose and ending somewhere down their left cheek was a long, deep gash with bits of different sized glass sticking out of it. Red blood flowed from the wound and all down their face, staining and matting the tips of their hair that had fallen in front of their face.

Then their eyes connected. Dark, lackluster eyes stared up at him. They looked exhausted. Despondent. 

As Black stared, the rage he held for Red returned. _Red_ did this. If he had aimed any higher, there would have been some serious damage. They might have lost an eye. Or if the wound was any deeper than it already was, they would have died from the hole in their frontal lobe.

He almost killed White. And if Black had been any slower to react, he would have.

Even though Black’s intervention had prevented their death, White still got hurt. The least Black could do now was try to undo the damage Red had done. He wasn’t going to pretend like he knew anything about patching up wounds, but he had to try. 

It was a multi-step process. He started out by removing any bits of broken glass from the gash. White occasionally winced or grunted in pain, but they didn’t object, nor make any attempt to stop him. Then with a cloth, Black cleaned their face of blood, both dried and fresh.

After some time, White spoke. It was the first time they had spoken since the fight.

“You’re an impostor,” their voice rang out quietly through the room. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.

Black’s hand stilled and his eyes drifted up to look them in the eye. They were staring directly at him. 

“... I am,” he admitted.

Another beat of silence, and then:

“Why did you save me?”

Black averted his gaze, his hands falling away.

He thought about everything he would have gained from killing them. Another dead crewmate. Another step closer to destroying MIRA. Red’s approval and a clear head that no longer had to focus on a distraction.

He thought about everything he would have lost from killing them. All the knowledge he had come to learn about them. He would have lost the ability to talk with them each day. He would have lost their company. Lost the… relationship they had cultivated and the trust that had come along with it.

Then he thought about how irrational it was that he cared about losing any of that at all. That he worried about losing them for good. None of it made sense. Even after days of trying to figure out the answer, he didn’t feel like he was any closer to one.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

He didn’t know.

They were quiet for a long time after that, but Black’s mind was busier than ever. Now that White knew he was an impostor, what was going to happen?

Normally, if someone had learned the truth about his identity, Black killed them. Except he wasn’t going to do that to White— not after he had fought so hard to keep them alive. So what should he do now? Not only that, what did _they_ think? Were they going to tell the crew about him and Red?

He wanted to ask them, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t think he should.

So instead he continued to clean their wound, working in silence. It gave him something else to think about. Something other than… everything.

Black applied a gauze over the gash once he had finished cleaning it. After that, he got up to start the automated healing process on the bed. A light green hologram scanned slowly up and down their body. Black had done all he could. Now all he could do was let the automated healing speed up their recovery.

With nothing else to do, he stood by their bedside for a while, watching their vital signs on the screen above their bed. Watching the hologram move along their body. He did this until the door behind him hissed open, the sabotage from earlier having worn off.

He was just about to take his leave when White piped up behind him.

“You’re leaving?” they asked quietly.

Black looked back at them. “I think you’ll be fine. And I don’t think Red’s going to come back.”

They hesitated for a moment. “Aren’t you hurt too?”

He looked down at himself. His body still ached, although most of his wounds had sealed themselves back up again. Plus, any blood that was on him had already disappeared. He wasn’t as bad as he was before.

But even if he were, he didn’t feel like he should stay. White probably didn’t want to be in the same room as an impostor, especially when one had just tried to kill them.

So he shook his head. “I’m fine. I just… I need to go.”

Black sometimes thought that it would be easier to tell what White was thinking if he could just see their face. But now that he could, he found it wasn’t much easier. Their gaze dropped and their mouth tightened into a thin line, their expression… complicated.

He continued to stare back at them, waiting for them to say something. _Wanting_ them to say something. Anything. Yet nothing happened and White’s eyes remained trained on the floor.

Oddly, Black felt a twinge of something unfamiliar. It was something akin to disappointment. 

He turned to leave again, and this time, White didn’t stop him. Black left the room, making sure to sabotage the door closed behind him once again.

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [19 ᴅᴀʏs 01 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Orange stared at the security camera footage, their mouth agape behind their helmet. 

They couldn’t believe what they had just seen.

Sometime after the reactor meltdown, Pink had pulled them to the side and asked them for a request: to go back and review the security camera footage.

“The impostors caused the meltdown for a reason, right?” Pink had said to them. “Maybe it was to lure us away from somewhere. Check the security footage and see if you can find something.”

Orange didn’t think it was an impostor sabotage, but rather a simple ship malfunction. However they trusted Pink enough to do what he asked.

They didn’t expect to find much.

They were wrong.

They looked over the footage of the camera that looked over the hallways leading to Navigation and O2. There, they saw White and Red. Then Red, pulling out a gun and aiming it at White. Then Black leaping out. Then, then—

Black’s arm transforming. Then a big fight, shades of black and red shifting and transforming into various different parts. Sharpened claws, teeth, tendrils. Then Red, darting away, slinking into a vent and disappearing.

Orange stared at the footage in mortification. They didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t possibly be real. There was no way, right?

Yet the screen in front of them said otherwise. Red was an impostor. Their leader and captain who was supposed to be guiding them through these hard times— an _impostor_. And Black, who was one of them. A crewmate. Or at least, that’s what Orange had believed.

They had to find Pink. Or maybe they should call an emergency meeting. Everyone had to see the footage and know the truth. Then maybe they could put an end to all this. To all the death and murder.

Orange shakily stepped away from the security console and darted out of the room. They looked frantically left and right down the hall, trying to find someone— anyone.

“Pink! Yellow!” they cried. “Green! Anyone!”

They ran further down the hall and turned the corner into Lower Engine. Just as they were about to make another call for help, they came inches away to a tall, dark figure in front of them.

The figure whipped around to face them. Then—

“You thought you could sneak up on—?! Oh.”

Orange let out a soundless gasp as sudden, inexplicable pain exploded through them. Slowly, they looked down.

Several black spears, almost like needles, had punctured through their body. Through _them_. They couldn’t see it, but Orange could _feel_ the way the spears had pierced clean through their chest and out the other side.

Though their vision had begun to blur, their eyes managed to trace the spears back to their source.

They came from the large, dark figure that stood in front of them. They came from… Black.

No, _not_ Black. Not a crewmate like the rest of them, but an imitation of Black. A shapeshifting, alien impostor that wanted to kill them all.

The spears retracted from Orange’s chest and they sank to the floor, blood blossoming from the dotted holes in their torso, staining their suit a deep red.

As they clutched at their wounds in a feeble attempt to stop the blood from pooling out of them, the whole room began to blur. Their thoughts became fuzzy. Their movements became sluggish. Their punctured lungs refused to take in any air, despite how hard they heaved. It was as if the entire world had suddenly been covered in a thick haze. And it was smothering. Suffocating.

Darkness crept along the edges of their vision. Orange blinked as if that would help clear it, but the darkness only crept closer, like they were being sucked into the empty vacuum of space.

“ _Oh_...” rumbled a distant voice from above. “Shit.”

That was the last thing Orange heard before they, along with everything else, were smothered by the darkness and disappeared into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> black: green quick please tell me you've seen white this is literally a matter of life or death  
> green: i'm literally high rn lol
> 
> white: you're impossibly fast and strong. i know what you are.  
> black: say it. out loud. say it.  
> white: a vampire.  
> black:  
> black: wait no,
> 
> i have a twitter now! i'm over at **@_orestia** where i'll be posting updates and ideas about the fic, as well as just general among us stuff.
> 
> i've already posted some art commissions i've gotten of black and white, so you should totally check it out. please keep in mind that some content i post will be 18+, however.


	6. questionnaire. (interlude i)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first of a two part-er, where we break away from the plot and focus more on black and white. 🖤 enjoy!

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [19 ᴅᴀʏs 01 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

_Shit, shit, shit._

Black hadn’t meant to kill Orange. In fact, he hadn’t realized it was Orange until it was too late.

He had been so caught up in thinking about his fight with Red. That’s why when he caught a flash of a warm colour in his peripherals… his mind jumped to the worst. And he simply _reacted_.

 _Shit,_ he swore again. Black didn’t kill without having a plan. He’d have had an escape route ready, first. Then he’d think of a lie or gather some sort of alibi.

But this time, he _hadn’t_ wanted to kill somebody and he was completely unprepared. He had no escape plan, no story, and no alibi. And now he had to figure out what to do with the body.

He ended up dragging Orange’s body down the hall and dumping them unceremoniously in a hidden corner of Reactor, where nobody would check. Or at least, he hoped. At the very least he hoped it would buy him some time before somebody noticed the crewmate was missing.

Just as he was leaving, a flicker of light caught his attention in the next room over. Black froze. Was someone in Security? Had he been caught already?

As he crept around the corner and peered into the room, he was relieved to see that no one was inside. The flicker of light he had spotted came from the security monitor at the left of the room.

What was _on_ the monitor surprised Black, however.

It was their fight from earlier. The camera footage had been paused on the image of himself lashing out at Red with dark tendrils, while Red simultaneously sliced Black’s abdomen with huge claws.

 _The cameras were on,_ Black realized with alarm. He had been too concerned with saving White that the possibility hadn’t occurred to him. He hadn’t even realized that they _were_ in view of a camera.

This was bad. Someone had seen the footage. Someone knew the truth about him and Red.

Except... if the room was empty when Black had entered, then where were they?

He looked around nervously. Whoever had been here hadn’t bothered to log out of the security logs; his and Red’s shapeshifted forms were left on the screen for anyone to see. And from the way the chair had been pushed to the side, it looked as if they had left in a hurry.

Where could they have gone? Were they hiding? Or maybe they’d left not long ago? The only person Black had seen recently was—

Orange. It must have been Orange. They probably ran down the hall when they discovered the truth, and that’s when they ran into Black.

He needed to be sure. He switched to the footage of the camera just outside the hallway of Security and fast forwarded until he found what he needed.

 _There._ No more than five minutes ago, Orange had sprinted out of the room, then down the hallway to where Black had gone.

He let out a sigh of relief. If it had been anyone else looking through the footage, he didn’t think he’d have time to hunt them down before they called an emergency meeting. Luckily, Black had already solved his problem by unintentionally killing Orange.

But he had still been careless. At least now he had the chance to fix his mistake. No one was going to know the truth.

Black stared up at the screen. Then he closed his eyes and focused his attention on the security monitor. When he looked back up, the screen had gone static and the words ‘DATA CORRUPTION’ flashed in red.

Nothing like a communications sabotage to help hide his tracks. He couldn’t afford to let another mistake like that happen.

However, Black still had the sneaking suspicion that he was missing something else. If he allowed himself to almost get caught on camera, there might’ve been something else he had forgotten.

 _The scene of the fight,_ he thought. He had to make sure there wasn’t any lingering evidence that could possibly incriminate him.

He walked down the hall as calmly as he could, passing the closed med-bay doors where White still resided and into the cafeteria where he saw Yellow and Green. Neither of them stopped him or spoke to him as he passed, much to his relief. He would take whatever small mercies he could get.

When he finally rounded the corner into the Navigation hallway, he was surprised to find… nothing.

The pools and splatters of his and Red’s blood had already disappeared. That wasn’t unusual— it had been long enough that the blood likely already evaporated. What _was_ surprising was the lack of everything else.

There were no shattered pieces of White’s visor. And the pistol that Red had dropped was gone, too.

Black found that the most worrying of all.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [19 ᴅᴀʏs 22 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Orange’s body was found the next day.

No one mentioned finding broken glass or a gun by Navigation during the meeting. Which left Black with only one conclusion.

At some point Red had probably gone back to hide any evidence. And to retrieve his gun.

As Black looked across the table, the aforementioned impostor seemed composed and entirely unscathed. As if he hadn’t recently had his chest pried open and nearly died because of it.

_Bastard._

Black hardly paid attention to the meeting. He had hoped it would’ve taken longer to find Orange’s body: he needed more time to process everything that had happened.

The security tapes. Orange’s death. The missing evidence. His fight with Red. Saving White. White’s injuries. White covered in their own blood. White.

Black couldn’t stop glancing over at the crewmate. They also looked relatively unscathed, but that might have been because he couldn’t see their injury behind their helmet— which had since been repaired and outfitted with a new visor. He couldn’t tell whether their recovery had gone well or if they were simply putting up a front for the sake of the meeting.

His attention was pulled back to the meeting when he heard Pink say his name. He forced his eyes away from White in order to pay attention.

“... noticed Black, White, and Red weren’t at Reactor with the rest of us. The core nearly melted— where _were_ you guys?” Pink questioned.

Black tensed. If White wanted to out both him and Red, now was the time to do it. Pink would no doubt believe their story— the crewmate already suspected him from the get-go. Yellow would likely take their side as well; he didn’t think she had forgotten Black’s strange behaviour, back when White had cut their hand in the O2 filter.

He looked over at White and found them already looking at him. He braced himself, waiting for the inevitable.

But to Black’s surprise, it was Red who spoke up first.

“I was stuck in Admin due to a door malfunction. I tried everything to get the door to budge, but the impostors must have done something to sabotage them,” Red said, the lie rolling off his tongue easily. “By the time they unlocked, the emergency alarms had stopped. You all must have fixed the reactor by then.”

Sincerity oozed off his words. Pink grunted, looking as if he was contemplating his story. Black wondered if he was going to believe it.

But then Red took advantage of his momentary silence to sneak in another comment. “Before that though, I _did_ see Black and White together,” he muttered in a secretive, yet not-so-quiet tone. “It almost looked like Black was stalking them.”

Black instantly bristled. “Stalking?” he echoed in disbelief.

From across the table, Yellow hummed thoughtfully. “You know, they _have_ been together a lot lately…”

“Oh yeah. I think Black said he was looking for White. Before the whole reactor thing,” Green said lazily.

All the attention had suddenly flipped onto Black. Incredulous, he whipped to look at Red. He could basically feel the pleased, smug, energy exuding from the other impostor.

Red was trying to rally the entire crew against him. Even though he had lost the fight, he was still trying to get his revenge. Black sensed that whatever remained of their partnership had now been burned to ashes.

Pink’s focus narrowed in on him and White. He leaned forward, his gaze downright accusatory. “So, Black. White. You two were together then?”

Black’s eyes narrowed. “We were.”

“Why weren’t you at Reactor?”

“I—”

“Because we were also trapped.”

It was White who spoke up this time. Pink tilted his head and Black looked at them, surprised.

“That so?” Pink deadpanned.

White nodded. “We tried to make our way to Reactor, but the doors prevented us from going anywhere. Just like Red, the ship’s systems returned to non-critical by the time they opened up.”

Black nodded in agreement, yet he was too surprised to say much else. _They’re not telling the truth about the fight. They’re_ lying. _Why are they lying?_

“Why are you only bringing this up now?” Pink quizzed.

“I didn’t think it was relevant information,” White answered evenly. “This meeting was to discuss Orange’s body, was it not?”

“It was. But not showing up to help stop the ship from exploding? Doesn’t look good. For either of you.”

Red hummed in agreement. “Regardless, it doesn’t explain why Black was following you. He might’ve had plans to do away with you during the meltdown,” he said, as if Black _wasn’t_ just a few feet away from him.

Black couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh at the sheer hypocrisy or reach over the table and throttle Red right then and there. 

“He and I were alone for long enough. If he wanted to try anything while we were locked behind the doors, he had ample opportunity to. But he didn’t,” White objected coolly.

“Yeah, I dunno, Red,” Green mumbled. “That’s kind of a hard accusation.”

“Maybe. But I know what I saw,” Red said. Black could feel his glare as if it were piercing through his skull.

It was foolish of him to think Red was simply going to take his defeat lying down; he wasn’t going to stand for what Black did. Red probably accused him as a way of sending him a warning— to stay away from White.

Black inwardly snarled. That _bastard_.

The meeting adjourned not long after and Black found himself wandering alone into Storage. He took cover from behind a pile of tall boxes, trying to stay hidden from view.

He wanted to talk to White. There were so many things he wanted to talk to them about, but it felt as if there were a hundred reasons why he couldn’t.

Everyone was going to be conscious of the suspicion Red had cast on him. Which meant he had to be more careful if he wanted to be around them.

Although now that they knew the truth about him, he doubted White would want to see him at all. Why would they, when they had nearly died at the hands of an impostor like him? It would be a miracle if they spoke to him again, let alone look in his direction.

“Hey.”

Black jumped at the sound. When he turned to his left, White— of all people— was peering at him.

For once, Black was relieved to be wrong.

White gave a yelp in surprise as Black grabbed them by the wrist, pulling them forward so they were also obscured by the stack of boxes. “What are you doing?” he whispered. “If the others see you with me…”

“No one followed me. It’s fine,” they reassured him.

The room fell silent as Black stood there, trying to figure out what to say. What _could_ he say? So much had happened. From the fight, to the truth about him and Red, to the meeting, where did he start?

His eyes eventually fell on their visor. He tried to peer past the tinted glass, but to no avail.

“Are you okay?” he ended up asking. “How’s your injury?”

“It wasn’t that bad. It still hurts, but it’ll heal.”

“I want to see.”

“Black, it’s fine—”

“ _Let me see_.”

White went silent. A moment later, their hands went up to their helmet. Locks of white fell in front of their face as their helmet came up and away.

The gash on their face had healed into a long, jagged scar that started at the bridge of their nose, extending down their left cheek. Black reached up and glided his fingers along the newly healed skin, inspecting it while making sure his touch was light enough that he wouldn’t hurt White further.

The automated healing had done its job. And as far as he could tell, it didn’t look infected either. Meaning, he must have done _something_ right when he was fumbling around attempting to clean their wound.

“... Okay,” Black murmured. He still wished Red hadn’t managed to hurt them at all, but he at least felt satisfied with how the healing had gone. White’s eyes tracked his hand as it fell away from their face.

“What about you? Are you in any pain?” they asked.

“No. I’m healed.”

“You are? Last time I saw you, you were covered in blood…”

“Impostors heal fast. Shapeshifting helps with that,” he grunted.

“Ah,” White sighed. “I guess that also explains why Red is none the worse for wear.”

So they had noticed, too. Red seemed perfectly okay to a blissfully ignorant onlooker, but he and White obviously knew what had happened to him the day before.

 _They knew the truth and nobody else did._ Black shifted uncomfortably. A question he had since the meeting formed at the tip of his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell the others about me?”

White stared down at the floor, their brows furrowing. “To be honest, I didn’t know if I should. You’re an impostor. Obviously I should tell them, right?” they murmured. “But… you saved me. Plus, I’d like to think that all the time we spent together wasn’t all for naught. Right?”

They were right. It _wasn’t_ for naught. All this time, Black thought that the only reason he wanted to get close to White was because he wanted to use them. Or because he thought they were interesting and nothing more. But now, he knew otherwise.

He genuinely enjoyed being with White. He enjoyed who they were as a person. He enjoyed them for them, and for no other reason. And he didn’t want them to be taken away from him.

White spoke up again when Black remained quiet. “Look, I won’t tell the others. On one condition,” they said. “I get to ask you anything I want and you have to answer. Let’s make it… a question a day?”

Black knew it was a hollow threat. If they hadn’t told the truth to the others when they had the chance, then they probably weren’t going to at all. 

And if it meant he could still talk to White even after everything that had happened, then...

“Okay,” he agreed. “What kind of questions?”

“Mainly ones about you. Well, impostors in general, that is.”

Black had a sudden flash of déjà vu. This felt like something they’ve talked about before. “Face to face with a deadly impostor, and all you want to do is study them instead of running away?” he said, echoing the very first conversation they had.

White smirked. “Well. You might be right about that.”

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [21 ᴅᴀʏs 00 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

“So does your shapeshifting have limitations? How about your night vision? How well are you able to see in the dark? If you don’t need oxygen and can withstand extreme temperatures and pressure, can you survive out in the vacuum of space?”

Black scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Didn’t you say just _one_ question a day?”

It was the day after the meeting and the two of them were currently in one of the engine rooms. They made sure to keep their voices low— low enough for only them to hear. However, the roar of the nearby engine assisted in masking their conversation to anyone who might be nearby.

“I know, but there’s just so much I want to know! I never thought I’d get the chance to learn more about impostors, but now I finally have the chance,” they chattered excitedly. “For example, impostors have been known to sabotage electronics, but how? How are you able to close doors and cause light outages? Is there a flaw in the ship’s security that you’re able to exploit?”

“No. Nothing like that. I can just… do it.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean all I have to do is think about it. I can’t really describe it,” Black said. “All impostors can interfere with technology in some way, as far as I know.”

“So you mean it’s a natural ability?” White cocked their head to the side. “Hm. Is it some sort of electromagnetic interference? But how? Do they control their own bio-electric field? I wonder how that would be possible. If only I could observe it...” they muttered to themselves.

“Err…”

White perked up, an idea striking them. “Ah! Here,” they grabbed Black by the wrist and brought him around the corner until they stood in front of an open doorway. “Try closing this door.”

“Uh, okay.”

Black stared at the doorway as he concentrated his energy on it. A moment later, the two sides of the door slammed shut.

To say White was pleased would’ve been an understatement.

“You did it!” they exclaimed. They rushed over to the door, then looked back at him with awe. “That’s incredible. How are you able to do that?”

Black bowed his head. White’s praise made him feel something he didn’t experience often: modesty. “I just concentrated hard enough,” he mumbled. “It was nothing.”

“‘Nothing’? I’ve never seen a life-form exhibit natural control over technology like that,” they said. “Are you able to open it too?”

Black blinked. “I… don’t know,” he thought for a moment, then: “I’ve only ever needed to close doors. Not open them.”

“Can you give it a try?”

He gave a hesitant nod. White stepped away from the door and he began his attempt to open it.

He tried doing the same thing as last time. He concentrated on the door, focusing his energy on it. Except instead of imagining it shutting, he envisioned it opening instead. _Open_ , he said in his mind.

When it didn’t open, he doubled down on his concentration. _Open. Come on, just open,_ he thought angrily.

Then something happened. But it wasn’t something either of them expected.

There was a metallic ‘clunk’, followed by a spark of electricity. A few short seconds after, thin trails of smoke began to filter out from the sides of each door.

He had broken the door.

“... Oops,” he muttered.

“Huh,” White said.

The two simply stared at the billowing smoke for a while. White spoke up a few beats later.

“So.”

“...”

“How do we explain this to the others?”

“We don’t. Leave it for someone else to find.”

“Hang on, I think I can fix it.”

White walked towards the circuit breaker adjacent to the door. Even more smoke and electrical sparks surged out as they opened the panel.

“Wait, don’t,” Black warned.

But White was already making a move to flip one of the switches— one of the sparking ones. Black was quicker, however, and he pulled them back before they could get any closer.

“Ah— hey! I said I could fix it!” they exclaimed.

“Well _I_ said don’t!” he barked. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Oh,” White said. They looked at their hand, then up at the circuit breaker. “Maybe, but it’s not like it would’ve killed me.”

Their utter disregard for their own safety still surprised him. “You can’t just…” Black shook his head. “Where would you be if I weren’t here?”

“Dead, probably.”

They had said it as a joke— a throwaway line— but Black knew there was truth behind their words. Without his intervention, without him stopping Red… and without stopping _himself_ , White probably _would_ be dead.

The blood in Black’s veins ran cold at the thought.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [21 ᴅᴀʏs 01 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

“Hey, one of the doors to Upper Engine is totally fried. Literally. Do either of you know anything about that?”

Black and White’s heads swiveled towards Pink. He was currently peering at the two of them in a doorway, a toolkit in hand.

“Uh, no,” White said.

“No,” said Black, almost simultaneously.

Pink let out an annoyed groan. “Right. Okay. Guess I gotta do everything myself on this fucking ship…” he grumbled under his breath.

As the crewmate stomped down the hall unhappily, Black couldn’t help but grin.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [23 ᴅᴀʏs 22 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

“Aren’t you going to eat something?”

Black shook his head. “No. I’m fine. I’m not hungry.”

“If you’re sure,” White said. “The kimchi isn’t too bad even after being processed and vacuum sealed.”

They sat at one of the tables in the cafeteria. Across the table from him, White kept themselves busy by stirring their food with a pair of chopsticks.

Even if Black were hungry, he’d much rather spend his time watching White. It wasn’t often he got to see them without their helmet. Now that he had the opportunity to, he spent time committing every detail of their appearance to memory.

The darkened (and now fully healed) scar along their face. Their wavy, white locks. Their dark eyes. The small patch of facial hair on their chin. The ways their eyes and their mouth moved while they spoke.

Seeing their reactions and facial expressions added a whole new layer to White that Black had only just begun to explore. He wanted to enjoy it for as long as he could.

White stared down at their food for a moment before looking up at Black with an inquisitive look. “You _can_ consume our food, right?” they asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you have anything before.”

“I can. I can eat just about anything.”

“Oh! Good. For a second I was worried we were slowly starving you,” White quipped.

Black let out an amused huff. “No. Space food does just fine.”

There was a pause as White took a moment to take a bite of their food. “You can consume things that are poisonous too? Or raw?”

“Sure. As I said— just about anything.”

“Interesting,” they said. “So if you wanted to, could you eat a crewmate?”

Black gave a surprised blink. White’s tone was too nonchalant for the question they had just asked. 

“Uh, why...?”

They shrugged. “There were some bodies at HQ that simply went missing. Rumour had it that some impostors took them away and devoured them, but there was no real proof. I was just wondering if that theory had any real basis.”

“Well…” he hesitated for a moment, briefly concerned over how White would view him if he told them the truth. But they had already seen much worse. If they didn’t distrust him for shapeshifting or mauling Red or simply for being an impostor, they probably weren’t going to distrust him for answering their question honestly.

So he took the chance. “I could,” he finally answered, “but I’d rather not. You’re all too…”

White raised an eyebrow. “‘Too’…?”

He paused, trying to find the right word. “Too _stringy_.”

White made a face. Then it was gone— something Black would have missed if they had their helmet on.

“I mean, I wouldn’t. But I wouldn’t put it past others to… you know,” he muttered. “Err, I guess you’d rather not hear about it.”

“No, it’s fine. I was the one who wanted to know,” they said casually.

Black worried that it wasn’t actually fine. It was one thing knowing Black’s true identity as an impostor. But it was another thing knowing what he was actually capable of.

He could kill and feast on another sentient being. Black had no intent in doing so, but he was still _capable_ of it. 

He looked down at his hands. Most crewmates feared and resented impostors _because_ of what they could do. What they _have_ done. White was an outlier in that they had never held the same fear for impostors that other crewmates did, but Black didn’t want to be the one to change that. He didn’t want to tarnish the relationship they had built.

“I mean, I can’t say I blame them,” White’s light-hearted tone broke the silence. “If I had the chance to eat anything other than freeze-dried space food, I might do the same.”

Black looked up at them and blinked in surprise. “You’re joking about impostors eating crewmates?

“Me? Joke? I’m dead serious.”

The corner of their mouth turned up. They were definitely joking.

Were they… trying to lighten the mood? To reassure him?

“You don’t give space food enough credit. It’s not _that_ bad,” he decided to say instead of gawking in silence.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’ve ever had tube food.”

“I wouldn’t?”

They nodded seriously. “Liquefied ham. It’s as unappetizing as it sounds.”

Black allowed himself to smile slightly. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. Black watched White’s facial expression and body language for a while after and came to the conclusion that they weren’t distraught or uncomfortable like he had dreaded. They had been genuinely fine with Black’s answer— even comfortable enough to make grim jokes of their fellow crewmates’ deaths, as odd as Black found it.

He let out an inward sigh of relief. Scaring them away was the last thing he—

“So what can you tell me about impostor reproduction?”

White’s sudden question caused Black to choke on his own spit.

“W-What?”

“I said—”

“No, I know what you said, I mean,” he spluttered. “What kind of question is that?”

Instead of answering his question, White cocked their head at him. “What’s wrong, Black? I’ve never seen you so worked up before.”

“ _What’s wrong_?” he echoed. “I’m not going to talk about…” he trailed off. He could feel himself growing warm.

“Why not?”

He was grasping at straws now. “Because, it’s...”

“You said I could ask you any question about impostors. It’s for the sake of scientific curiosity,” they said. They feigned a serious tone, but the upward tug of their lips said otherwise. They were clearly enjoying Black’s flustered reaction.

Black wasn’t going to stand for it. He got up from his seat with an incredulous shake of his head. “I’m leaving.”

“Aw, come on.”

“No.”

“But you promised!”

“Too bad.”

Black could basically hear the smirk in White’s voice. “You’re not shy, are you?”

He walked away as fast as he could. His face grew warmer as White’s pleasant laugh rang out behind him.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [26 ᴅᴀʏs 05 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Black didn’t particularly care about the other crewmates. Well, except for one. But that was different.

So when he spotted White sitting with Green and Yellow, his indifference to the others was what stopped him from going near. 

He glowered. He only wanted White’s attention. Why did the others have to be around?

He watched from a distance as the latter two crewmates prattled to each other while White listened on quietly. It was only when White noticed him and beckoned him forward did he decide to (reluctantly) approach the group.

Yellow’s chatter quieted as she saw him, which went completely unnoticed by Green. White, however, seemed pleased to see him.

“Hey Black. Come join us,” they said warmly. “We were just talking.”

As he took a seat next to them, Yellow leaned towards White. “Um, White, don’t you remember the last meeting?” she whispered. “Is it really okay if we let him…”

Black glared at her unhappily. The seeds of Red’s accusation had taken root, it seemed. 

But White was quick to defend him. “Black didn’t try anything during the reactor incident,” they said. “Plus, I don’t think anything bad is going to happen when all four of us are together.”

“Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen?” Green said in their ever relaxed tone.

Yellow rubbed her hands together hesitantly. “I guess...”

“It’s fine, Yellow. Trust me,” White said.

“I mean, I trust _you_...”

“Hey Black, quick question,” Green turned to him, completely interrupting them. “Why don’t you wear a hat on your helmet?”

“Huh? Oh,” Black shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never cared to wear one.”

“Really? But wearing hats is so much fun.”

“I guess I haven’t found one I like.”

Yellow perked up at that. “Wait, Black, you don’t have a hat?”

“Err, no—”

“Maybe we can help you find the right one. Oh, I think there’s a box of spare hats in Storage,” Yellow chirped. Any of her former hesitance or wariness had been replaced with excitement. “Let me grab them!”

“Good idea!” Green called after her.

Before Black knew it, she turned the corner and was gone before he could object.

He blinked. What had just happened?

A minute passed. While they waited, Black felt the touch of a hand place itself on the back of his upper arm. His eyes snapped to the contact like a magnet and he looked up to find its source.

That’s when he caught White’s gaze. Black thought he saw a hint of their smile behind their visor.

“I’m happy to see you,” they said in a quiet tone. “It’s not like I wasn’t having a good time before, and I know we need to be careful, but… I like it a lot better when you’re here.”

Then their hand fell away. Black could still feel where their fingers had brushed his arm.

Black was surprised by two things. The first being how open they were, and the second being the suddenness of it. Where had _that_ come from? And what was he supposed to say?

He made a quick glance over at Green and was relieved to see they weren’t paying attention at all. They were too busy humming to themselves and flicking a pen around in their fingers.

Then he turned back to White. He bowed his head, feeling abash. “I do too,” he muttered out.

Expressing his own thoughts and feelings still felt foreign to him. Even just _thinking_ about it made him feel… vulnerable, almost uncomfortably so. But every time he did, White had always seemed happy with him and encouraged him to do it more.

He didn’t get to see if White acknowledged his response, because Yellow returned not a second later. She held a box filled with various different hats and accessories, and plunked it down on the table in front of them.

“Hats are a fun way to express yourself. They say something about yourself. You just need to find one that’s right for you,” she said, then pointed to the flowerpot on her head. “I picked mine because it reminds me of my house plants. It’s like I’m taking a piece of home with me wherever I go.”

“I picked mine because it matches my suit,” Green said nonchalantly, the sprout wiggling as they spoke.

Black turned to White. “What about you?”

“Mine is more for practical purposes. These are actually magnifying lenses,” White said while adjusting the goggles on their head. “I use them sometimes when I’m looking at samples.”

“So, what do you think? Ready to find your new forever-hat?” Yellow chimed.

Black grunted noncommittally. “I don’t know. I guess something simple is fine,” he muttered.

“Okay, let’s see… maybe this antenna? Or headphones? Or— oooh, how about this one?” Yellow pulled out a glowing, yellow ring— a halo— and placed it above Black’s head. Once it sat in place, she hummed in satisfaction and Green let out an approving whistle.

Beside him, White stifled a snicker.

Black glared at them. “What? Is something funny?”

“No, not at all,” they said, a hint of a smile in their voice. “I just find it very apt, that’s all.”

Black rolled his eyes. ’Apt’ his ass.

Even with White imploring that the halo was a good fit, backed by the other two crewmates’ insistence, he refused to wear it for longer than five seconds.

However, if White said it looked good, then…

Perhaps at the very least, he could hold on to it.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [26 ᴅᴀʏs 07 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

White swiveled their chair away from the communications monitor to face Black. “So what’s the real reason why you don’t wear hats? Most crewmates do— you might blend in easier if you did.”

Following their conversation with Green and Yellow, he and White decided to rendezvous at Communications later that day. Black had sabotaged the door behind them after making sure no one had seen them enter the room together.

“I’d rather shapeshift my own. But if I do that, people might figure out that it’s fake. So I don’t bother,” Black answered.

White hummed thoughtfully. “That actually reminds me, I actually wanted to ask more about your shapeshifting. Is that okay?” they asked, getting up from their chair to stand with Black.

“Sure.”

“So, you’re not actually _in_ a suit, correct? This is your actual body?” they asked as they gestured up and down him.

“That’s right.”

“So…” they hesitated for a moment before walking up to Black and taking a hold of his hand. “Can you feel this?”

Black’s eyes immediately honed in on their connected hands. He was momentarily distracted by the subtle warmth and sensation of their hand in his. For a split moment, he was reminded of the time they hid together in Upper Engine, when the lights had been sabotaged.

“... I can,” he eventually said.

White raised Black’s hand up to their visor, closely inspecting the details of his gloves as well as where the cuff of his suit and the glove connected. “That’s incredible. You can’t even tell the difference,” he heard them murmur. “It’s perfect.”

Black tilted his head down at the compliment, a flicker of an unknown emotion passing through him. Yet he remained silent.

Then White’s hand fell away and moved to the side of Black’s helmet. They paused just before they made contact. Black locked on to their hand as it hovered just inches from him.

“Err… may I?” they asked hesitantly.

Black gave an approving hum. His eyes didn’t move from their hand for a second.

White’s fingers brushed the side of his head, so lightly that Black could barely feel them. They ghosted along, slowly tracing the upper rim of his visor, down the side, then down even further to where his helmet and suit met. Their hand moved along the seam, leaving a trail of warmth that disappeared just as quickly as it had come.

“You can feel this, too?”

Oh, he could feel it all right. It took everything in Black just to nod. He didn’t trust his voice to work at that moment.

It was all such a confusing array of sensations. The touch was more gentle and light and different and _foreign_ than he had ever experienced. It was similar to an itch, except Black didn’t know if he wanted it to go away or if he wanted it to stay. Or if he wanted _more_.

But White’s hand disappeared before he could decide. Black felt both a mixture of relief yet disappointment.

“The way you can imitate the appearance of anything is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it before,” they said with a hint of wonder. “How do you do it?”

Black shrugged. “I just think about it and it happens,” he said. “It helps if I’ve seen the thing I want to change into before.”

“Of course, I imagine it’d be much harder to look like something you have no visual reference for,” they agreed. “But that makes me wonder: do you have a default form? What do you look like when you’re not shapeshifting?”

“Err, it’s…” he trailed off, taking a moment to think. “Maybe I can show you.”

Then Black took a step backwards and closed his eyes to focus.

He tried to concentrate on what felt natural. What felt comfortable. What felt _right_. When he had a good enough grasp on that feeling, he could feel himself shifting as different parts of his body moved. 

Then he stopped. He opened his eyes and caught White’s reaction.

They seemed surprised. Intrigued. Maybe just the slightest bit tense. But they weren’t afraid.

“Is that…?”

Black turned to look at one of the blank monitors. That’s when he caught his own reflection.

The first thing he noticed were the multiples of eyes that had appeared over his faux-visor, staring back at him. As his gaze moved down his body, he noticed even more changes. Two pairs of dark tendrils with sharpened points had appeared at his sides. A wide mouth filled with pointed teeth bisected his torso and long claws had also replaced his fingers. And although he couldn’t quite tell, he could have sworn he was slightly bigger, too.

He looked… different. _Alien,_ one could even describe him. Yet even with all his new additions, Black felt as if he had barely changed at all. The mouth along his abdomen pulled down into a frown.

“I still look like a crewmate,” he said.

“You do,” White affirmed.

“I…” he gave himself another once-over before shaking his head. “This isn’t right.”

“What isn’t?”

Black huffed. “This form. Maybe the claws are right, and maybe _these_ ” —he said, motioning to the tendrils at his side— “but I don’t know about everything else. I don’t think I did it right.”

White thought for a moment. “But does it feel right to you?”

“I guess? But that doesn’t _make_ it right.”

White let out a gentle sigh. “You know, there’s no real right or wrong way to look like yourself. If it’s what feels right to you, then by every account, it’s right,” they said, their tone sympathetic.

“No, that’s not— you don’t get it. You asked me what impostors actually look like. Well this” —he gestured down at himself— “isn’t it. This isn’t how _I’m_ supposed to look. Something’s not right and I can feel it.”

“Black…”

“I mean, what kind of impostor doesn’t know how to look like himself? Isn’t it ironic?” he barked. Black could feel himself start to lose his temper. He ran a hand up to his head and began to dig in with his claws. 

“...”

“And here I thought I could try,” he spat. He was starting to ramble now. But he didn’t care. One by one, he could feel old insecurities piling on top of him, fueling his irritation. “I thought I could, but of _course_ I can’t make myself look normal. No wonder I… no one ever— I don’t…”

“... You don’t know what impostors really look like,” White said slowly, filling in the blanks. “You’ve never seen it.”

The truth was a nail, and White had hammered it right on the head. Yet hearing the fact of the matter still felt like someone had struck him.

“No. I haven’t,” he said, resentment dripping from his voice.

“Why?”

Black didn’t answer. White’s equally quiet gaze bore into him.

He wished they would stop staring at him. He wished they’d stop looking at his pathetic, incomplete form.

Instinctively, he retracted all his extra body parts and returned the appearance of his space suit back to normal.

“Black? Is something wrong?” White asked, sounding worried. They tried to step towards him. But this time, Black edged away.

 _Something_ is _wrong. Me,_ he wanted to say. Disappointment and bitterness towards himself began to creep along the sides of his subconscious like wisps of smoke.

“No,” he lied instead. His own voice sounded cold in his ears. 

White hesitated before making another attempt to reach for him. “I can see this bothers you. If you want to talk about it, I’m happy to—”

He whipped around to face them. “ _No._ Stop asking,” he said, harsher this time.

White’s hand dropped and fell to their side. That’s when Black realized his mistake.

“I mean, not— not now,” he backpedaled. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it was my fault. I’m sorry for prying,” they said quietly. “You don’t have to tell me.”

Except it wasn’t their fault. Black was angry, yes, but not at them. That’s just how he was whenever something was wrong. He lashed out. He reacted. He just wanted to be _mad_. And in the end, it hadn’t felt as good as he had anticipated.

He should’ve apologized. He hadn’t wanted to blow up at White. He hadn’t wanted to scare them away.

But his own bitterness towards himself ruled out his shame. So instead of acknowledging White, he turned away from them.

He didn’t want to face the problems caused by his own emotions. He didn’t want to struggle with his thoughts or wants, not when he was still trying to come to terms with them. It was still new territory that Black didn’t know how to navigate, and he had blown up at White because of it.

And of course he was more worried about _that_ , rather than the fact that he had been telling a crewmate everything he knew about impostors. Or the fact that he had failed his mission and ended up attached to said crewmate instead of killing them. The fact that he had almost killed one of his own in order to protect them. And the fact that he couldn’t do something as simple as shapeshifting into his true form.

What a shameful excuse for an impostor he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pink, swearing under his breath: go to polus, they said. it'll be easy, they said.
> 
> black: 😇  
> white: 🤭
> 
> i made an among us twitter (@_orestia), where i'll be posting art for the fic, previews, random thoughts, and just among us stuff in general. if you're interested in that, feel free to check it out.
> 
> i hope you've all had a happy holidays, and that you'll have a happy new year! 🤍


	7. white, white leaves of an oleander. (interlude ii)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick warning for suicidal ideation later in this chapter.

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [26 ᴅᴀʏs 06 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Ever since Black’s outburst from a few days ago, there had been some silent tension between him and White. It was subtle, but it was there.

Conversation between them wasn’t the same. They still met up to talk and so Black could answer their questions about impostors, but overall, White seemed quieter and their responses were clipped.

Black didn’t like it.

White was quiet today, too. What little conversation that happened between them quickly fell flat. Yet despite the silent tension, neither of them made a move to leave each other’s company, either.

Black glared at a locked door in the meantime, half concentrating on trying to open it, half stewing unhappily in his thoughts. White was never like this— not with _him_ , anyway.

He was so used to listening to their idle chatter. He was so used to their curiosity. Their enthusiasm. How comfortable and amicable they seemed around him. The shift had been a complete one-eighty.

Maybe they hadn’t been scared of impostors before, but it had only been a matter of time. After weeks of trying to survive on a ship with two impostors, as well as surviving Red’s earlier attack, maybe Black’s outburst was the final push White needed to finally feel distaste towards impostors.

And if that really were the case, Black had no one to blame but himself. Although he shouldn’t be so surprised. It wouldn’t have been the first time he screwed up something important— his shortcomings as an impostor were proof of that.

He couldn’t get along with one of his own kind. He couldn’t kill a single crewmate. He couldn’t make himself look right. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing away the single person on the entire ship that mattered to him.

He couldn’t do anything right.

Black was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the noise of a small mechanical ‘hiss’. It was only when he pulled away from his angry thoughts and tried concentrating on the door again did he notice that it wasn’t closed anymore.

It was open.

He blinked once, then twice. His brain stalled as he processed what happened.

Did he just…?

Just to be sure, he sabotaged the door shut and focused on the sealed metal doors. _Open_ , he said to himself internally.

The door hissed open about a second later.

Black stood up straight, staring wide-eyed at the open door way.

He did it. He undid his own sabotage.

He immediately jumped from the wall he was leaning against and bounded across the room towards White. “White!” he exclaimed.

The aforementioned crewmate had been busy downloading data onto a tablet before they jumped at Black’s sudden appearance. “Huh? What? What is it?” they yelped.

“I did it. Look,” Black grabbed them by the shoulders and spun them to face the door. Once again, the metal doors shut as he sabotaged them, then reopened a moment after.

White stared at the door, then looked back at him. “Wait… was that you? You’re actually able to open doors?” they asked in astonishment.

“Yes. I don’t know how. I didn’t even realize it until I looked back, and— it just happened,” Black rambled. The words came quickly tumbling out of his mouth.

He hadn’t heard of any impostor being able to control technology past simply making them malfunction. As far as he knew, even _Red_ hadn’t done something like this.

He had done something he didn’t even realize was possible.

“Black, that’s great! Congratulations!” White exclaimed. Genuine happiness toned their voice— a stark contrast from the clipped responses they had given him lately.

Black didn’t realize he was still holding White by the shoulder until they reached up and placed their hand on his. The comforting squeeze seeped warmth into his skin and crept down his arm.

“I wonder what makes it different from just closing doors. Do you know what changed? How difficult is it in comparison?” they questioned. “I wonder if you’re able to affect more than just doors, too. For example, can you counteract a lights sabotage? Or a reactor meltdown? I still find it amazing how you’re able to…”

As White carried on, Black could feel whatever tension that was between them begin to lift. Like fog drifting on the wind. And suddenly, things felt the way they did before. Things felt _normal_ again.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed ‘normal’. Or how accustomed to ‘normal’ he had become.

Maybe he couldn’t do what most impostors could. Maybe he wasn’t a good impostor overall. But at the same time, maybe he wasn’t a total failure.

Maybe he could do something right after all.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [27 ᴅᴀʏs 01 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

“No one ever showed me,” Black said the next day, unprompted.

White looked back at him. “Huh?”

“How to look like ‘myself’,” he clarified. “There were no other impostors around to show me.”

“Oh,” they said, looking hesitant. “Black, you don’t have to force yourself to talk about it. I understand if it’s too—”

“No. I... think I want to.”

White’s eyes widened at that. They turned around completely, giving Black their full, undivided attention. “Only if you’re sure,” they said.

Black nodded.

“Okay. So… you said no impostors showed you?”

Black looked down at the floor. Learning how to force doors open yesterday had helped him soothe his doubts. It had helped him realize that maybe he wasn’t as inadequate an impostor as he thought he was. And that maybe, telling White the truth wouldn’t be so bad.

However, forcing himself to be open and honest was already proving to be more difficult than expected.

“I barely saw other impostors when I was younger. I mainly traveled alone and had to learn a lot of things myself,” he admitted quietly.

“You grew up alone?” A wistful look had glazed over White’s eyes. Then it was gone before Black had time to wonder what it had meant. “Why weren’t there others around?” they asked.

“It’s because there’s not many of us left.”

“There’s not?”

“No. Most died when our planet was destroyed.”

White blanched. Whatever they had been expecting, it hadn’t been that. “Your entire planet? Destroyed?” they echoed.

Black gave a nod in affirmation. “I don’t know the details. No one ever wanted to talk about it. All I know is that the majority of the population was killed, and those that survived fled,” he said. “We’re slowly dying out.”

White leaned back in their seat, taking a moment to process the information. “What happened to the survivors?” they asked slowly.

“I know some managed to find new places to live,” he said. “There are impostors scattered across different planets and moons all across the galaxy.”

“Then how did so many of them find their way to Earth?”

“You can thank your space exploration organization for that.”

White gave him a curious look. “Because of MIRA?”

Black nodded. “We lived where we could. Distant planets and moons… then MIRA came along and started exploring these areas. Taking from them, harvesting samples, and even setting up outposts.”

He could see the gears spinning in White’s head as he spoke. The moment their eyes widened, he knew it clicked. “You think we’re taking over your territory,” they realized. “Is that why impostors are attacking?”

“I guess it is.”

White tilted their head at him in question. “You sound... indifferent.”

Black simply shrugged. He _was_ indifferent. “Every impostor I know used to live on the homeworld. Red included. He and everyone else already lost one home. I don’t think they want to lose another,” he explained.

The crewmate took another brief pause to digest the information Black had provided.

So far, they had only been asking questions. Black wanted to know what they thought of everything he had told them so far. Had some things come as a shock to them? Had anything changed how they saw impostors at all?

“Every impostor… but you?” they eventually asked.

“What?”

“You’re not including yourself in that statement. The one about impostors losing their home,” they noted. “Why’s that?”

Black knew better than to think White wouldn’t catch on to that detail. With a shake of his head, he began to explain.

“The homeworld was destroyed decades before I was alive. I’ve never had an attachment to it like the others. That and the fact that I wasn’t taught anything makes it obvious that there’s something wrong with me,” he said apathetically. “For example, there’s... some sort of secret code or social cue used to signal other impostors who are disguised. It’s undetectable to outsiders, but impostors will see it and know that that person is one of them. I don’t know what that code is. I don’t know anything like that. And even if I wanted to learn, they weren’t going to trust me,” he spat. “It’s because I’m different. I’m an _outsider._ ”

“And that’s why you never learned what you really look like.”

“Yeah. It feels like they’re all in on one big secret that I couldn’t hope to understand,” he scowled. “I’m an impostor, but I haven’t been through the things they have. I don’t know what it’s like to lose everything. Or to have something of yours be taken away. But... I can still understand why they’re choosing to attack.”

“How so?”

“MIRA is intruding on their new homes. This gives them a convenient target to lash out at. Something they can direct their anger towards.”

“Do you agree with what they’re doing?”

 _Of course I do,_ was what he was about to say. It was a reflexive response.

Yet just as he was about to speak, something in the back of his mind stopped him and he frowned. The words caught in his throat, changing and reworking themselves. “I’m one of them. It’s what I’m supposed to do,” he said instead, slowly.

“But is that what you really want?”

Black’s frown deepened. “... I don’t know.”

What he wanted or what he thought or felt never mattered. He was never ‘himself’ long enough to dwell on any of that. He was always changing, trying to blend in to his surroundings. Trying to fit in with the others.

And because he was supposed to fit in, he had always simply gone along with other impostors. Trying to be one of them. As long as he was one of them… as long as he was doing what was expected of him, there was no reason for him to think twice. How could he go wrong when he was doing what was considered ‘right’ in the eyes of the impostors?

It was only recently that he had become more aware of what he actually _wanted_. Even more aware of his own feelings. And suddenly, things weren’t as simple as he had tried to make them out to be.

… Why was he helping to attack MIRA in the first place? What was the point of it all? What did he have to gain?

 _Did_ he agree? Or was he just trying to fit in where he thought he belonged?

“I don’t know,” he said again, this time to himself.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” White reassured him.

Except Black didn’t think it was okay. He _should_ know. And he was sick of not having answers to any questions.

“Thank you for telling me all of this. I know it couldn’t have been easy being this open,” White said. Then with a hang of their head, they murmured. “I... also wanted to apologize for hardly talking lately.”

Black frowned. He hadn’t been expecting an apology— nor had he wanted one. “You have no reason to be sorry.”

“No, I do. I knew you were angry. Maybe even upset. And it was all because I tried to pry into something that wasn’t my business,” they said. “I didn’t want to force you into talking about something you didn’t want to, so I tried giving you space. But… I think it seemed like I was ignoring you.”

Black shook his head. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he muttered. “After I got mad and made myself look like... a monster in front of you, I thought you finally realized how dangerous it is to be around impostors. Especially after Red almost… you know.”

He was surprised when White chuckled at that. “The fact that you’re an impostor has never bothered me, Black. Nothing about what you’ve done or what you’re capable of scares me.”

Black shot them a puzzled stare. “But why? Someone like me tried to kill you.”

It was an age-old question at this point— a question that Black still didn’t have a solid answer to. Why didn’t White fear impostors? Why didn’t they hate them? Why were they more interested in studying them rather than anything else?

In the end, all White did was smile. “I think you being my friend matters way more than that.”

 _Friend_. Something in Black’s stomach did a strange twist.

In impostor terms, ‘friend’ usually meant ‘someone you could exploit for their trust’. ‘Friends’ were expendable resources that helped you gain alibis, and they were easy to betray and discard later.

To hear the word ‘friend’ in such a different context— with the implication that White trusted and cared about Black, even despite his impostor status— struck a chord somewhere inside him. It echoed strangely in his head, and yet… there was something pleasant about it, too.

He was their friend. They were _his_ friend. They were _his_.

He liked the sound of that.

White suddenly paused, their expression inquisitive. “Hold on. You said your homeworld was destroyed… decades before you were alive?”

“That’s right,” Black confirmed.

“You also said Red and other impostors lived on the homeworld before. Which means…” they cocked their head at him. “How old are you?”

“Only ninety. Give or take,” he said after a moment of thinking.

White let out a whistle. “Damn. I hope I look that good when I’m your age.”

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [29 ᴅᴀʏs 03 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Black thought that White’s questions would be easier after that.

He was wrong.

The most recent question, “who have you killed”, proved to be one of the most difficult questions to answer to date. Black had a feeling that the topic would come up sooner rather than later, and yet he still struggled to find the right words.

In retrospect, he should have been more prepared. 

“I know you have,” White said calmly after Black spent too long in silence. “This isn’t a trick question. I’m not going to tell anyone, I just… I want to know.”

Black hesitated. He knew they weren’t going to tell anyone; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was confessing. Admitting that he had killed crewmates when he should be hiding that fact. And then admitting them to White, of all people.

“... Purple,” he said after a long period of delay, “Blue, and Orange.”

White took a moment to think. Black waited in uncomfortable silence for their reaction.

He hated whenever he didn’t get an immediate answer. The silence gave him too much time to overthink.

“Wait. _You_ killed Orange?” they questioned. “But they died the same day as the incident with Red. When did you…”

“It was after I left you in the med-bay. It was an accident,” Black blurted. “They snuck up behind me and I thought they were Red trying to get the jump on me. I just… reacted,” he admitted.

“Huh. Okay.”

Black blinked. “That’s it?”

“Pardon?”

“That’s all you have to say?”

“Yes. I told you— I just wanted to know.”

“But… aren’t you upset? I killed a third of the crew and your only reaction is ‘okay’?” he asked, perplexed.

White shrugged. “To be honest, it’s hard to care about people you weren’t really close to to begin with.”

Even without facial expressions to give him away, White still must have caught on to Black’s surprise. “I mean, I’m not saying I don’t care that they died. That’s not what I mean,” they corrected. “But I told you before: nothing about what you’ve done or what you’re capable of scares me,” they reiterated, their tone suddenly serious. 

Initially it had been a surprise to hear that a crewmate cared less about their own kind and more about the impostor that murdered them. But as Black quickly remembered, White was different from regular crewmates and that there was truth in their words.

White never seemed close with any of the other crewmates. They only conversed with others when they were prompted, and they never made an effort to approach anyone else.

Except for him. Except for Black, who was one of the only people who could pose a threat to the livelihood of the entire ship. And yet White cared more about their friendship despite that.

Black still wasn’t sure he understood it.

\-----

More time passed. Every day, White asked a question. And every time, Black found it near impossible to answer. 

“Why do you hang around me instead of anyone else?”

“Why did you protect me during the lights incident?”

“Why did you save me from Red?”

“Why are you so concerned about me getting hurt?”

“Why haven’t you killed me?”

He could’ve said it was because he wanted them alive. He wanted their presence. Their company, their attention. He _enjoyed_ it. He enjoyed having them around. But those were only surface level answers. They weren't necessarily complete.

He didn’t know the complete answer— the _root_ of why he felt that way. As deep into his thoughts and emotions he dug, Black still couldn’t find the truth himself.

All of White’s questions ended up left unanswered.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [34 ᴅᴀʏs 11 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

It had been over two weeks since the first time they were in Navigation together. Back when Black had just started to get to know White. He remembered the conversation they had vividly— the one about the size of the universe and finding purpose and meaning in life.

And now they were back again. He and White sat in the cockpit with their chairs reclined, allowing them to stare up at the transparent ceiling. A wispy nebula of bright blues and golds dotted by flecks of stars shone above them.

The ship felt still and quiet. The only thing that ended up breaking the silence was White’s quiet voice.

“Black.”

Black tilted his head in the direction of White’s voice. “Hm?”

“Can I be honest about something?”

White was so quiet that he almost didn’t hear them. “Sure,” he replied.

A twinge of curiosity caught inside him. What did they want to tell him?

At first Black wasn’t sure that they had heard him. He was about to repeat himself when White finally spoke up.

“Do you remember what happened before the fight with Red? We were in Electrical together. I wanted you to come with me while I did some tasks,” they said.

“I remember,” he said, although he winced at the memory. He had almost killed them then, but decided against it at the last second.

Black wondered just how different things would be if he had gone through with it.

“I had to fix some wires. Except maintaining electrical equipment isn’t my specialty,” White carried on. “It took a while to figure out what I was doing and I got distracted talking about different subspecies of bedcrabs, anyway. Overall the job took much longer than it should have. I guess that’s what happens when you get a biologist to do an electrician’s job,” they joked in a humourless tone.

“Uh, yeah…” Black said, his frown puzzled. “Why are you bringing this up?”

They were leading up to something. He could sense it. Yet he couldn’t figure out what that something might be. 

“I...”

There was a pause. White interrupted themselves to let out an exhale.

“I was testing you, back then. To see if you were an impostor.”

Black’s frown deepened. He sat up and swiveled to look at White. They were still reclined, looking up at the view of space above, but Black could tell every muscle in their body was tense.

Had they seen him shapeshift behind their back, back when they were together in Electrical? Had they known he was just inches away from killing them?

“Did you know that I was an…?”

“Not at the time, no,” they said. “But at the same time, it’s not like I didn’t have a clue.”

Black swallowed. “Clues like what?”

White dragged out a sigh, taking a moment to simply stare at the stars above before speaking. “Before we really started talking, I noticed how you always tried to be in the same room as me. You were always lingering nearby. I knew you were following me, but I didn’t know why,” they said quietly. “Then after the lights incident, Pink told me how he was watching the admin table and didn’t see you in Reactor, even though that’s where you claimed to be. Blue’s body was also reported to be in the next room over, which led me to believe that maybe _you_ killed Blue.”

Pink’s suspicion _had_ gotten through to them. Not only that, White also knew Black was linked to Blue’s death. Even before he had confessed to killing them.

They knew he was suspicious. They knew he was dangerous. They _knew_.

Yet they didn’t do anything about it.

A familiar feeling churned somewhere in Black’s guts. 

“But why kill Blue instead of me? Why make an effort to talk to me every day and even protect me from danger? I wasn’t sure you were really an impostor even though all the clues pointed to you. So I decided to try a little experiment,” White said, their voice lowering to the volume of a whisper. “I brought you to Electrical— a dead-end room with a vent inside. I made sure no one saw us go in together. Then I turned my back to you. If you were an impostor, you probably would’ve taken the opportunity to kill me.”

The churning feeling in his guts began to intensify and rise, like boiling water threatening to spill over.

Black didn’t like it.

“But... why? If I killed you, you wouldn’t be alive to know that you were right. So what’s the point of risking yourself like that?” Black quizzed. He could hear the volume of his voice rising. “You’re always doing this. You always put yourself in harm’s way. I’ve seen it. But I’ve never understood why. Why would you—”

“Because I _wanted_ to die, that’s why.”

The churning suddenly stopped and the veins in his body went cold. 

White’s gaze remained fixed on the ceiling above. They refused to look in his direction.

“I can’t remember a time where I haven’t wanted to die, Black. I’ve never been someone somebody’s cared about. I’m a nobody,” they let out a harsh laugh. “When I joined MIRA, I thought I’d finally be worth something. I thought I’d make a difference by aiding in research or by discovering more about life outside of Earth. Except nothing I did got any attention. No one cared. It all felt pointless, really,” they scoffed. The tone of their voice suddenly turned dark. “And if it’s all pointless and no one cares… then what does it matter if I induce a little self-destruction? Who’s going to notice if I get hurt or die?”

In that instance, all the questions Black had about White’s behaviour suddenly answered themselves.

All their behaviour Black found odd for a crewmate to possess. Their recklessness. Their lack of self-preservation. Their unexpected nihilism when talking about life’s purpose. Their general indifference to harm and death. Their desire to throw themselves into situations that might be a danger to them. Their apathy towards impostors that might kill them...

… was all one great act of deliberate self-destruction.

White wanted to die when Black had fought so hard to keep them alive. The thought sat on his mind like a stone on thin ice, heavy and threatening to crush him.

Black couldn’t help the involuntary shudder that went through his body. 

It went unnoticed by White, who continued to speak. “When we found out there were impostors on board, I thought it was finally over for me. I knew that sooner or later, I’d be killed. I went into Electrical with you thinking that’s where my grave would be,” they whispered. “But then the strangest thing happened: nothing. Nothing happened. You didn’t kill me and I thought maybe I was wrong. But that still didn’t change what I knew for certain— that I was going to die sooner rather than later.”

“Then Red pulled a gun on me. I thought for sure that it was over. I… I didn’t run away because I _wanted_ it to be over,” their voice wavered. “Then... you saved me. And my entire world has been flipped on my head since then. Nothing has turned out how I expected it to.”

Black swallowed. It took a moment for him to get his throat to work. To find the right words to say. “... What do you mean?” he dared to ask.

“Ever since then, Black? Ever since you saved me? I’ve wanted to keep living,” they confessed. “I don’t know how or why, but you make me feel like I’m worth something. Something worth salvaging. You listen to me and want to be around me. You wanted to be my _friend_. I just… you make me feel needed. No one’s ever made me feel that way before. And I _mean_ no one.”

“White…”

“I’ve wanted to die for so long. Then the one time where my life is actually at risk, and I suddenly want to keep living,” they laughed weakly. “Isn’t it ironic?”

“White,” he repeated.

White finally turned to look at him. The sight of his own reflection greeted him as he stared into the crewmate’s visor.

“Can I see you?” Black asked.

In silent agreement, White sat up from their reclined position and silently raised their hands to their head. Then their helmet came up and away.

The first thing Black noticed was the slight redness and the watery look in their eyes. A stray tear trailed down the length of their scar, which they quickly brushed away with the back of their hand.

“Sorry,” they apologized. “I don’t know why I’m... I’ve never talked about this sort of thing. I don’t even know what prompted me to tell you _now_ , of all times, I—”

“Stop,” Black interrupted. “Don’t apologize.”

White looked up at him with surprise. Dark, widened eyes searched his face.

He had their attention. Now he just had to figure out how to say what he wanted.

“I’ve never thought about myself before. Who I am, how I feel, what I want... it’s new territory for me. But one thing I know is that ever since I met you, I’ve been drawn to you,” he confessed. “Part of that is because you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever seen before. I can’t explain it, but… I enjoy getting to know you. I enjoy hearing you talk about yourself. I enjoy whenever we’re together. And I hate when you’re not around. I hate it even more when I know you’re in danger.”

“You’re not a nobody, White. You’re somebody to me. You _mean something_ to me. Again, I can’t… I don’t know exactly what that something is, but it’s telling me that I want to protect you,” Black said. “I stopped Red from killing you. If I can help stop you from killing yourself, then I want to do it. For as long as I have to.”

Another tear rolled down White’s scar, and another wipe of their hand whisked it away. “Jeez… Black, I… that’s a lot to say, isn’t it?” they whispered. “You don’t have to promise something like that. Don’t feel like you’re obligated to keep me alive or anything.”

“I mean it. I’ll take care of you,” he promised.

It was true. He had never wanted to protect them more.

The corners of White’s mouth pulled into a slight frown. “It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me,” Black said. _Not if it’s you,_ he wanted to say.

“You’ve seen how I can be. You’re biting off more than you can chew. ”

“You’re setting your expectations too low. I’ve protected you so far, haven’t I?”

That got a small smile out of them. “I suppose you have.”

“Then?”

“Then, well... are you sure that’s what you want? You won’t shrink back?”

“It is. And I won’t.”

White let out a shaky, yet gentle sigh. “You’re something else, Black.”

Black turned away and chose to stare back up at the swirling nebula above. He tried to ignore the warm feeling that had begun to grow in his face by steering the conversation somewhere else.

“Can I ask _you_ something?”

“Of course.”

“Err…” Black scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “What’s your name?”

MIRA protocols stated that employees be assigned code names in lieu of real names. Either because of security reasons or convenience sake— Black couldn’t quite remember the specifics. But it was a hard-and-fast rule that resulted in admonition or even dismissal if broken.

However, White had already committed mutiny by keeping Black and Red’s true identity a secret from the crew. Black himself had already tarnished the entire infiltration plan, and in turn, betrayed the impostors. The two of them were well beyond keeping true to the rules. 

White’s surprised, yet warm laughter rang out throughout the room. Black watched the way their grin tugged at their eyes and mouth.

“My name is Oleander,” they answered with a smile.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [34 ᴅᴀʏs 12 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

“It’s getting late. We should probably get going before someone finds us.”

“Mm.”

“... Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Can you sing for me?”

“Huh? Why?”

“It was nice. The first time I heard you sing was also the last time.”

“I wasn’t singing. I was humming.”

“Sure. So, will you?”

“...”

“I know it’s out of the blue. If it’s too weird of a request—”

“No. No, I can. Just… one second.”

Black swallowed, ignoring the slight crawl of nerves daring to creep back up. A rumble started in the back of his throat and he began to sing not long after.

“ _Prove to me I'm not gonna die alone.  
Put your arm around my collarbone,  
and open the door._”

It was a song he overheard playing on a radio once, back when he was infiltrating HQ. He couldn’t quite remember all the words, so he hummed in lieu of lyrics while drumming a steady, quiet beat.

“ _You said, ‘I can't prove to you you're not gonna die alone,  
but trust me to take you home  
to clean up that blood all over your hands.’_”

He was too focused on singing the right words, staying in tone, staying on beat, that he didn’t notice Oleander was no longer staring up at the view of space. Instead, their head was tilted in his direction.

“ _Put your trust in me.  
I'm not gonna die alone._”

And if Black chose to look to the side instead of keeping them trained on the stars above, he might have noticed the way they were staring directly at him, a wistful look in their eyes and their mouth slightly ajar.

“ _Put your trust in me._  
_I'm not gonna die alone,  
I don't think so…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> white: you can't give me this whole speech about how i mean something to you and not serenade me after. serenade me, btw.  
> black: what—  
> white: **do it.**
> 
> a couple of things:
> 
>   * the whole "i'll take care of you" "it's rotten work" "not to me, not if it's you" exchange is the entire reason this fic is named what it is. that's it. i'm just a sucker for schmaltz.
>   * there was no good way to explain it, but basically black is the impostor equivalent of mid 20's. red (and most impostors) are equivalent to the mid/late 30's ranges.
>   * inspiration for the chapter title and white's name is thanks to the song Oleander - Mother Mother 🤍
>   * the song black sings is: Putting the Dog to Sleep - The Antlers 🖤
> 

> 
> i'm over at (@_orestia) on twitter if you like (nsfw) among us content, art of the skeld crew, or previews on next chapters.


	8. territory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please mind the new tags before jumping into this chapter: things start to heat up. 😉

**ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [35 ᴅᴀʏs 00 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Black hadn’t seen much of Red lately.

He didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad thing.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [39 ᴅᴀʏs 08 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Ever since Black came forward about the truth of his past and White’s confession about their self-destruction, things felt different.

Black couldn’t describe it, but it was a different feeling from what he felt like several weeks ago. Back when he was fumbling for answers regarding White’s behaviour, trying desperately to comprehend them. Now, he understood them— _truly_ understood them. 

Their actions, their decisions, the way they ticked. The way they sounded when they laughed. The way the corners of their mouth tugged upward into a smile. The way they looked at him. Everything he knew about them prior had suddenly been made more fascinating and exciting than ever before.

And overall, there was a newfound sense of trust and respect between them. It had been there before— except now, it felt strengthened. And as a result, the two of them felt so much closer than Black could have ever anticipated.

It felt good being the only one who knew Oleander the way he did. Him and only him. 

That’s why he hated how Green had been getting close to White lately.

Or maybe they weren’t trying to get close to them at all. Perhaps it was a coincidence. After all, this was _Green_ he was talking about. They were hopelessly oblivious.

But the way they lingered around White… the way they looked at them while they talked. The way they laughed at whatever they said. The way they would get _too close_ to them and playfully nudge them or rest their hand on their shoulder…

… Or on their hip.

The change was so quick. So sudden. And too deliberate to be a coincidence.

Whenever Black wasn’t with White, he’d find Green lingering by their side guaranteed. White didn’t seem to notice. Or at least, they didn’t seem to mind it.

Black, on the other hand, found that he had grown... twitchy. To say the least. More often than not he had to smother the urge to march over to the two and tear White away from Green himself. He compulsively bared his teeth or stabbed his claws into his thigh in anger when no one was looking.

He wondered if White had noticed Green’s sudden overt friendliness at all. They never brought it up in their conversations, even though Black had caught the two crewmates together on several occasions.

He didn’t get his answer until they were stargazing again, when White asked him a peculiar question.

“Have you ever been in love before?”

Those words created the strangest feeling inside him. It caused his pulse to hitch— his heart to quicken.

“How would I know?” he asked.

White took a moment to think, their gaze fixed to the stars outside. “Well… when you’re in love with someone, you can’t get them out of your head. You think about them more than anyone else. You always want to be with them because they make you feel good. They make you feel like you’re someone special. And in turn, they’re someone special to you. You trust them and care about them and you…” they hesitated for a brief moment before finishing their sentence. “You’d do anything for them.”

If someone had asked him that weeks ago, Black might have found the idea laughable. No one had ever mattered to him in that way. He didn’t think it was possible for someone or even something like that to exist, nor did he think he had the capacity to feel that way at all.

That was before he had met White. Now, things were different. Everything White had just described was exactly how Black felt about them.

If that’s what being in love was like, then...

The pieces in his head fell into place and snapped together perfectly, revealing the final picture to him. Yet somehow, the revelation didn’t come as a complete shock to him. Somewhere deep down, he knew how he felt about White already— the only difference was that now he finally knew what that feeling was _called_.

“I think I know what you mean,” was all Black said. It was the closest he would come to admitting the truth.

White sucked in a breath, but didn’t say anything more.

Something formed and itched at the back of Black’s mind. It was an inquiry. A question. And as he remembered Green and White from earlier that day, it moved to the back of his throat and danced dangerously on the tip of his tongue. His fingers twitched subconsciously, drumming against the side of his thigh, and he held back the urge to dig into them with his claws again. _Ask them,_ something whispered to him.

He didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t give him an answer to his question. Although that line of thought was foolish to begin with; he didn’t know what he’d even _do_ with the answer. _If_ he got an answer.

Still. He had to ask. He wanted to.

“Have you?” Black swallowed. “Been in love?”

It was a long time before White answered. They were silent and the look they gave him was indiscernible.

Black couldn’t help but shift under their gaze. He felt the growing need to claw himself out of agitation again.

But after what felt like eons, eventually their answer came.

“Yes.”

A feeling swelled inside him. It curled around his innards in a fiery tangle, hot and hopeful and needing and then suddenly… it was fleeting.

The memory of White and Green together came to the forefront of his mind. The memory of Green and White talking, and laughing, and _touching_. Of Green _daring_ to get close to White. Getting close to what was _his_.

The burning in his chest suddenly twisted into something else. Something dark. Something that writhed and festered like a wound. Something that blackened and stained, and it boiled in the bottom of his gut.

They didn’t mean Green… did they?

And if they did, why them? What did they have that Black didn’t? And what made Green think they could get close to Oleander like that? There was no way they could possibly measure up to what Black had with them. Compared to him, the spaced out sprout-headed crewmate amounted to nothing.

And didn’t Oleander know the impact they had on Black? Didn’t they know what they meant to him? That wasn’t something he could simply let go— not after everything they had been through together. It wasn’t something he was going to allow someone else to have. It wasn’t something someone could just take away.

Oleander was _his_. And no one else was allowed to have them.

No one but him.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [39 ᴅᴀʏs 22 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

Since then, Black had been in a noticeably grumpy mood.

Noticeable to everyone but him, anyway. He hadn’t realized he was being apparent about it until he was unexpectedly approached in his corner of Shields.

“O-Oh,” came a meek voice somewhere on his left. “Hey, uh, Black…”

When he turned, he spotted Yellow who seemed to be eyeing him nervously.

 _Yellow,_ he thought with a scowl. If he remembered correctly, the last time the two of them interacted was during their hat discussion with White and Green.

And although that interaction had gone fine, Yellow probably didn’t trust him much. Not after how much suspicion Red and Pink had been thrown on him. And probably not after his first week on the ship either— after the incident with White cutting their hand. She had been there along with Brown to witness his odd behaviour, after all.

Black might have cared about all of that on any other day. But at that moment, he didn’t have the patience to care. In the end he simply gave Yellow a grunt of acknowledgement before turning away.

Wordlessly and carefully, Yellow toed past him to reach the shield activation controls on the wall next to him. There were a few moments of silence where only the quiet beeping from her task could be heard, before she slipped past Black again and began to make her leave.

Just as Black thought he was alone again, the sound of her footsteps paused. And her voice perked up on his left again.

“What are you doing sitting in this corner?” she asked him.

Black inwardly swore. He wasn’t in the mood to humour her or pretend to be interested in conversation— he just wanted to be left alone. And although he could resort to more… violent measures to make her quiet, he wasn’t in the mood for that either.

Perhaps if he answered truthfully, it would get her to leave faster.

“Shields is quiet. And I wanted to be alone,” he grunted his reply, hoping she would get the hint.

Yellow worked her way back around to where he was sitting instead. Black’s eyes fixated on the bright coloured boots that stopped in front of him.

“So you’re just sitting here brooding,” she said after a moment of thought.

That got Black to glare up at her. “‘Brooding?’” he echoed.

She snorted. “Please. You look like a mopey teenager all curled up like that.”

Black scoffed and hugged his knees to his chest tighter. He didn’t think he liked when people analyzed _him_ instead of the other way around.

Yellow sank down to the floor, taking a seat opposite of Black. Her feet extended out and rested against the railing that Black was currently leaning his back against. “So why so glum?” she asked. “Also, aren’t you usually with White?”

“Not right now,” he grumbled. “They’re with Green right now.”

“Oh. _Ohhhhh_.”

Black’s glare narrowed. “What?”

“I see why you’re so down,” she said. “It’s because you’re jealous they’re not spending time with _you_ , huh?”

He flinched.

Black _really_ didn’t like when people analyzed him, he decided. He didn’t just dislike it or find it mildly annoying— he _hated_ it.

Briefly, he wondered if it was too late to kill her just so he wouldn’t have to hear her talk.

“I just don’t get it,” he ended up saying instead. “They’ve hardly interacted before. But now it seems like Green wants to get all cozy with them, for whatever reason. I don’t like it.”

“Maybe they’re just trying to make some friends?” Yellow pondered. “Green’s friendly to everyone.”

“Yeah, ignorantly friendly. But the way they’ve been around White seems a little _too_ deliberate,” he said with a hint of bitterness.

“Well, maybe they’re just... lonely?”

Black snorted. “Then they can go and talk to anyone else on the ship. I don’t care as long as it’s not Oleander,” he snarled. “They shouldn’t have to interact with the likes of Green. Not when they have me.”

"Ole… who?"

"Olean—" Black froze. He blinked once, then twice. Then he immediately backpedaled. "White. I said White."

"Uh, you did not say White," Yellow said skeptically. Then she gasped. "Wait, is that their real name? Did they tell you their name?"

"No, I didn't say—"

She gasped even louder. "They did! They did tell you!"

"No! They didn't tell me,” he waved his hands in front of him in dismay— a feeble attempt to dismiss her. “That would, uh, be against the rules."

Not only did Black not want to risk getting White in trouble, he didn’t want anyone else knowing their real name. It was something they entrusted privately to Black. Therefore Black, and only Black, deserved to know.

No one else was supposed to know White like he did.

However, it seemed far too late. Yellow had latched on to his slip-up. "Oh, that's okay. I won’t tell,” she waved dismissively. “That reminds me, I know what Pink’s name is. Wanna know what it is?"

"Err—"

"It's Henry," she leaned in with a serious whisper. Which was immediately ruined by a snort of laughter, followed by some giggles.

“Uh, right…”

Black grimaced. He was suddenly skeptical that she would truly keep quiet about White’s name.

“Man, I can't believe White really told you,” Yellow eventually said after her giggle fit. “That's really sweet, actually.”

“Sweet? What do you mean?” he asked, giving her a look.

She shrugged. “I mean, we’ve been on this ship for… how long now? And I barely know a thing about White. Of course I’ve tried talking to them, but they never talk about themselves. The most they ever talk is when they’re rambling about science-y junk. Or when they’re talking about you,” she said.

He blinked. “They talk about me?”

“Oh yeah. If it’s not ‘brainslugs and ecosystems’ this, it’s ‘Black said something interesting’ that. Or even: ‘hi Yellow have you seen Black today, we were going to work on tasks today. No, there’s no time to talk, I need to find him,’” she imitated White’s voice, then shook her head. “I mean it’s cute, but really? They can’t even stop for a two minute chat?”

A subtle warmness crept up Black’s neck. He hadn’t realized White talked about him so much. “Oh,” he mumbled lamely, not knowing what else to say.

“Anyway... for someone like White to tell you their real name, it must mean they really trust you. And if they trust you then I dunno. Maybe you aren't such a bad guy after all,” Yellow ended with a shrug. “You shouldn’t feel jealous. It’s obvious they like you.”

Black knew that. He knew White trusted him, too. But perhaps he hadn’t realized just _how much_ they did, and what implication the act of revealing their name really had. In a way it was different, too, hearing that someone else had noticed White’s behaviour.

“Do you really think so?” Black mumbled into his knees. 

“I mean yeah! Unless… hm.”

“... Unless?”

“Unless White told Green their name too. You probably wouldn’t know if they had, right? I take it back, then. Maybe you should be jealous!” she snickered.

Oh. _That_ put a sour note in Black’s mouth. 

Something told him Yellow was joking, but at the same time, what if... what if White had? Did that mean they trusted Green just as much as Black? Or more? Did telling Black mean anything at all?

Just like that, Black’s hopeful feelings crashed and were ushered away. And he felt just as bitter as he had before.

He let out a harsh scoff and turned away from Yellow. He really should have killed her earlier, instead of letting her talk.

Some help _she_ was.

\-----

 **ᴛɪᴍᴇ sɪɴᴄᴇ ғɪʀsᴛ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴜʀᴇ:** [40 ᴅᴀʏs 07 ʜᴏᴜʀs]

White swiveled their chair to face him. “So, are you finally going to tell me about impostor reproduction?” they asked.

The splutter Black let out was involuntary. “W-Why do you think I ever planned on telling you?”

“It’s only a matter of time, isn’t it? Come on, I want to know,” they pleaded. Their voice sounded more like a whine than anything else.

Black let out a huff, shifting between each foot uncomfortably. “Don’t make me do this,” he muttered under his breath.

He _really_ hadn’t wanted to return to the topic. Not because he was reluctant to give them information, but because it was… embarrassing, for lack of a better term.

“Surely it’s not that bad, right?”

“That’s not it. I—- It’s…” he paused to exhale sharply through his mouth. “I told you, I barely saw other impostors until I was much older. No one explained anything to me. What makes you think that I…”

“... Oh,” White said lamely, realizing what Black was trying to say.

Black could feel warm blood creeping up to his face. He cleared his throat to try and dispel it. “I don’t know what the actual ‘process’ is like. All I really understand are the… urges.”

“Urges?” they repeated. “Such as?”

Black swallowed. He suddenly felt too aware of White’s steady gaze on him, staring, waiting on him for an answer.

He was too aware of his own body and limbs and their proximity to White. He was too aware of how close they really were. They were only a few inches away. Just an arms-reach away.

He could reach out with a hand and graze them if he wanted to. He wanted to feel them. He wanted to have them in his grasp.

He wanted to, but he didn’t think he should.

“It’s sort of like a desire to… have something. To claim something,” he tried explaining, all while hoping his voice didn’t sound off. “I don’t know how to explain it. But the need for it can sometimes be overwhelming.”

“When was the last time you felt these urges?”

Black couldn’t stop his gaze from roaming over White’s body. “Recently,” he said, slightly strained.

 _Very_ recently.

They were urges that had been steadily growing over the past few days. They were feelings of impulsiveness that grew strong when he was around White, and stronger yet when he wasn’t. Black felt as if he was slowly losing control to where only his desires remained.

At the same time, however... it wasn’t as if that were a bad thing. As if he _wanted_ to control them, anyway. As if he wanted to hold himself back.

He couldn’t. Not when it came to Oleander.

That’s why he didn’t stop his impulse to unhinge the mouth along his torso. He didn’t stop the long, black tendril that snaked out of it from reaching for them.

He didn’t— no, _couldn’t_ stop himself when the same tendril trailed up their arm and further up their suit. When it snaked around their neck and around again, he knew he was slipping further and further beyond his control. 

White tracked his movements intently, their gaze never leaving him once. On the surface it would have seemed that they had no reaction. But when Black coiled the appendage even tighter around their throat, pressing close to their neck, he knew otherwise.

Even through their suit, he could feel their throat bob as they swallowed. The light pulse of their blood rushing through their veins. They didn’t need to say anything to admit that Black’s actions were having some sort of reaction on them— their body already said it all.

But it still wasn’t enough. Black wanted more. He wanted to feel them _more_.

The tip of his tendril slowly slid its way between the base of their helmet and the collar of their suit. He narrowed the appendage and worked at the seam until eventually, he was able to slip inside.

To say that it was an absentminded action wouldn’t be entirely accurate. He couldn’t control himself, yes, but he had ever been more aware of the sensations he felt in his life.

Black could feel them in a way he hadn’t before. He could feel their soft skin and the goosebumps that were raised against it. He could feel the quickening of their pulse, the slightest bead of sweat that trailed down their throat...

… And the warmth radiating off them. Stars above, they were so _warm_. The farther he trailed down, past their neck and collarbones, down to their chest, the warmer they were. Black recalled all the times they had touched prior and the feeling of White’s body heat on him. However, all of that was nothing compared to what he felt right then.

Knowing that he was touching them— their actual body, and not just their suit— was intoxicating in a way he couldn’t describe. He was exploring hidden parts of them, experiencing them in a way he hadn’t before. In a way he never thought he’d be able to. This was White— _his_ White. _His_ Oleander.

At some point a second tendril had found its way down White’s suit as well, joining the first in roaming White’s torso. He explored the surface of their chest until one of his tendrils nudged something— a raised, semi-hard bump of skin.

Without thinking, Black made a circling motion over it, feeling the area with only the point of a tendril.

White twitched in response, and from their mouth came a small, yet irrefutable gasp.

Their reaction— and the sound— ignited an absolute primal sensation inside Black.

His mind felt hazy and his core felt hot. At that moment, Black didn’t want to think at all— he simply wanted to _do_ and _act_. He simply _wanted_.

Black’s hands gripped tight around White’s shoulders, digging in with his digits. The movements of his tendrils became more erratic as he sought out more of their torso to roam. Underneath him, White’s breathing became laboured as the rise and fall of their chest quickened.

No matter how many times he ran his tendrils over White, he couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted to know them. All of them. He wanted to feel them until he had committed the feeling of their torso to memory.

“Black...” came Oleander’s quiet whisper from under him.

With the sensations of their body, their breathy voice was the cherry on top of it all. The pleading tone in their voice caused Black to growl with a sort of desire. “... Oleander,” he responded with a rumble.

This was his Oleander. They were his and his alone to explore and claim and mark. Who else knew them like he did? Who else knew how their body felt under their suit? Who else could make them whimper like that?

He made another circling motion over the raised bump of skin. Then again. Each time he did, White jerked in response, their back arching off their chair, causing yet another addicting whimper to escape them.

Black had never seen them react this way before and it was driving him downright wild. Only he could have this effect on them, he realized. No one else could touch them the way he was touching them. No one. And certainly not…

A spike of possessiveness surged through him. A third tendril reached out and wrapped tightly around White’s waist, pulling them closer to him. The action earned him a surprised gasp from White.

When Black leaned in, he was unable to stop the low growl of his next words:

"No one else is going to be able to touch you this way," he hissed next to their ear. "No one. Not even Green."

White’s movements slowed as they processed his words until they paused entirely. They looked at him, giving him a puzzled tilt of their head. " _Green?_ " they asked. "What—"

“Oh hey guys.”

Both of them jumped at the sudden new voice.

The sound snapped Black out of whatever trance he had been in. With a blink, he looked down at the multiple tendrils he had in and around White’s suit.

At his… tendrils. His non-crewmate-like, very alien-esque tendrils.

_Oh, shit._

The appendages that were feeling up White’s body at one moment, retracted and were gone in the next. The moment they disappeared back into his torso, Black whipped around to the source of the voice.

In the doorway behind him stood Green. Who had, of course, appeared at the most impeccable time.

For all the people to find him like this… the universe sure had a funny way of screwing with him.

White cleared their throat while subtly adjusting the collar of their suit. “Uh, hey… Green,” they managed to say. The shakiness in their voice was slight, but still noticeable to Black’s ears. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good,” Green replied.

“That’s… good.”

Without thinking, Black stood up. All he _could_ think about was how they had been caught. What should he do? Should he kill Green? In front of White? No, he couldn’t do that. But he couldn’t let Green leave either. He couldn’t risk them running away and telling the others. He had to do something to silence them, but what? How was he going to fix this?

The uncomfortable silence that hung over them felt crushing. Except... only two of the three people in the room seemed to notice.

Green simply rocked back and forth on their heels, blissfully ignorant to the tension in the room. “What are ya guys doing in here? Tasks or something?” they hummed in a sing-songy tone.

Black blinked, and the thoughts that raced in his head paused. Almost simultaneously he and White turned to look at each other, then back at Green.

White was the one who spoke first. “Uh, Green…” they started. “Did you, uh… see anything when you walked into the room just now?”

Green cocked their head at them. “See what?”

The panic Black initially felt was replaced by a hopeful flicker.

 _There was no way they didn’t…_ he thought. _Unless?_

Black _did_ have his back to the doorway. Green wouldn’t have seen anything if his body was blocking the view.

He squinted at Green, trying to figure out if their ignorance was a façade or not. But the longer he scrutinized them, the more it seemed that they were genuinely clueless to what they had just walked in on. Or rather, clueless to the fact that they had missed anything at all.

Through some miraculous stroke of luck… Green hadn’t caught them at all.

Relief washed over him and Black suppressed a sigh. At least the universe could spare him some grief today.

White seemed to have come to the same realization. “Erm, nothing. Black was just helping me with a… suit malfunction,” they lied. “One of my latches wasn't clamping properly.”

“Ohhh. Okay,” Green replied. Except they didn’t seem to be listening anymore. They absentmindedly stared off into a random corner, as if they had already forgotten the conversation at hand.

Green hadn’t caught them. They were completely calm and didn’t seem to suspect the two of them at all. But still… Black still felt wary.

“Why are _you_ here?” he glared at them in suspicion.

“Huh? Oh,” Green paused their swinging to scratch the top of their helmet. “I was supposed to do something, I think.”

“Do what?”

“I ‘unno. Help with something, I’m pretty sure. Someone told me to meet them in Admin.”

“Do you remember who? And why?” White asked.

“Why? No, but… oh!” Green clapped their hands together in excitement. “I remember who it was.”

“Who?” Black repeated.

“Red!”

Black’s eyes widened. Behind him White stiffened.

“Red?” White echoed nervously.

“Oh yeah. He was following me a while ago. Uh…” Green looked around and put a finger to the bottom of their visor. “Where did he go?”

“Right here, Green.”

Another voice joined the mix. This time, Black didn’t need to see them to know who it was. 

“Apologies for being late. There was something I had to take care of, first,” Red announced as he came around the corner. He placed a hand on Green’s shoulder— a gesture meant to portray friendliness and familiarity.

Black could instantly see it was disingenuous.

It wasn’t as if Green would know that though— Red was too good at using charm to get people to trust him, and Green wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, anyway.

 _He’s manipulating them. Using them,_ Black realized. _But for what?_

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“Oh, no prob. Black and White were keeping me company,” Green hummed happily.

“I can see that.”

Red turned to look at the two of them. His gaze pierced through Black’s faux-visor.

It was an uncomfortable feeling. Without thinking, Black moved a step backwards to stand in front of White. 

The movement was subconscious— one he had no explanation for doing. Perhaps he wanted to put himself between them to protect White. Or perhaps he was still feeling high-strung and possessive from earlier. Either way, he hadn’t realized he had done it until after the fact. 

Unfortunately, his action didn’t go unnoticed by Red. He could feel the opposing impostor’s gaze hone in on him and intensify.

“I’m sorry Green, but do you mind if I have a chat with Black for one moment?” Red said to the crewmate, all while never removing his stare from Black. “I just remembered one quick thing I need to discuss with him.”

“Oh sure,” Green hummed distractedly, too busy playing with the sprout on their helmet to care.

Behind him, White stood up. He could feel them discreetly place a hand on his upper arm, giving him a nervous squeeze.

“Go,” Black turned to them with a whisper.

White gave a tiny shake of their head. “But Red…”

“It’s fine. Just go,” Black said, firmer this time.

White appeared like they were about to object again, but eventually they obliged silently.

The two of them made their way over to the doorway. Where Black stopped in front of Red, White kept walking past them and down the hall into the cafeteria.

Wordlessly, Red motioned for Black to follow him and turned the opposite direction, towards Storage.

Begrudgingly, he followed.

Every fiber of his body prickled with unease as they walked. They made their way further into the ship until they eventually made a turn into Electrical, where Red immediately sabotaged the door behind them as they entered.

Red was being uncharacteristically quiet and calm. It made the uneasy feeling he had felt earlier grow. What was Red doing? What was his plan? What did he want to talk about, if anything at all? Was he planning on getting revenge for their battle?

“If you’re luring me away to pick a fight, then think again,” Black let out a warning growl. “It didn’t end well for you before. And it won’t end well for you now.”

If Red was going to try attacking him, Black was ready this time. His teeth tingled in anticipation as he watched Red’s movements, waiting for him to make the first move.

But instead of lunging at him or lashing out, or even giving him a response, Red simply… laughed. It started off low and quiet, then quickly increased in volume.

Black’s lip turned up at the sound as if it had just offended his ears. “Why are you laughing?”

“You know, I didn’t believe it at first. But this… _thing_ you have with White is downright hysterical,” Red barked.

“... What?” Black said again. This time his anger was replaced by confusion.

“At first, I wondered why you would try so hard to keep a crewmate alive that you would even fight me for it. If you weren’t using them for leverage, then I thought you might be keeping them as a trophy. Or as a toy,” Red sneered. “But no. You couldn’t be more obvious even if you tried.”

Black shot him a glare. “Obvious how?” he treaded carefully.

There was a beat of silence from Red. Then his laughter began once again. “Oh wow, you really _don’t_ know, huh?” he snickered. “It’s hilarious, really. You’ve made White— a person— your _territory_.”

Something about that word made Black’s insides squirm. It made his pulse quicken. White was… his territory? “What do you mean?”

He should’ve known better than to think he’d get an answer. Red said nothing as his uproarious laughter only grew louder and louder.

The abrasive sound caused a spike of anger to shoot through him. “What do you mean?!” he snarled.

Of course, instead of giving him an answer, the opposing impostor simply waved him off. “The fact that you don’t even know _that_ makes it all better,” he laughed, and a wicked grin filled with sharp teeth split over his faux-visor.

“Maybe I’d know what the fuck you’re talking about if you just explained it,” Black snapped.

“Why bother? You’re a sad excuse for an impostor anyway,” Red sneered. “I mean really. You haven’t even noticed what’s different about Green, either. Do you really think they’re smart enough to do all that stuff with White? Not only are you a sad excuse, but you’re ignorant, too.”

Then Red laughed. And laughed.

The noise grated against the inside of Black’s ears. It was harsh and loud and aggravating and it caused Black’s vision to go red.

Was that all Red wanted? To make a mockery out of him? To remind him of what he already knew? That he was a failure in every sense of the word?

He wasn’t going to stand for it.

Black was moving without thinking. The gap between him and Red was quickly closing. He didn’t know what he was about to do, just that he wanted to do something that would hurt Red. To shut him up, maybe. Once and for all.

But Red was quick. Black didn’t see him grab his gun until it was already pointed at his head.

“Don’t try it,” Red warned. “And don’t move unless you want a bullet in your head.”

Black still had half a mind to stop himself from lunging directly at the other impostor. The sight of the hollow barrel staring directly into him was enough to deter him, not to mention Red’s finger seemed dangerously close to squeezing the trigger.

“Go ahead and play with White,” he said evenly after a few beats of silence. “I don’t care what you do with them. I don’t even care about you betraying me or our plan. Just stay out of my way and I’ll happily leave you alone. Got it?”

Red sounded cool and collected. But even the steadiness in his voice wasn’t enough to hide the slight tremble of his hand holding his gun.

Was Red… scared? Of him?

That’s when something twisted inside of him. It sent a shiver up his spine, causing Black to tremble from satisfaction. _Good,_ he thought. _He should be_.

He wanted to see what would happen if he stepped forward. How Red would react if he tried getting closer. If he really was scared, then Black wanted to make damn sure he felt that. 

At the same time, though, the idea of getting a bullet to the head sounded less than ideal.

That was the only reason he allowed Red to back up further into Electrical, gun still trained on him. The second he had reached the vent in the corner of the room, he lowered his arm and flashed Black one last toothy, menacing smile.

“Think about what I said,” Red said with a grin.

Then he hopped inside the vent faster than Black could blink.

Then Red was gone. And Black was alone.

Yet Red’s words still echoed loudly in his head. No matter how hard Black tried, they continued to repeat in his mind ad nauseum for the next few days.

_You’ve made White your territory._

It was an impostor term, no doubt; the way Red had said it implied that there was more meaning behind that word than it appeared on the surface. And that it was strange that Black had made a _person_ his territory. Supposedly, anyway.

Black didn’t want to admit it. But whatever it was… whatever having a ‘territory’ meant…

He had a sneaking feeling that Red might be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> red, holding two bread slices against black’s ears: what are you  
> black: shut the fuck up
> 
> sorry for the lateness of this chapter. i've been working more lately, which means less time to write. not to mention i burned out a little bit earlier this month. i apologize for any mistakes i may have made as well. orz. still, i hope you enjoyed!
> 
> EDIT: also!! please look at this [wonderful art piece of black](https://twitter.com/arcade_chan/status/1364352100017180673?s=20) i had comm'd! big thanks to (@arcade_chan) on twitter for doing a beautiful job!  
> twitter: (@_orestia)


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